


Last Journey Home

by CNightJoy



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternative Universe - G1, Fallen Praxus, Gen, Ghosts, Horror, Zombies, after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CNightJoy/pseuds/CNightJoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war for Cybertron is over. Bluestreak has been quietly living on Earth and has no plans to return to his former home. Until he receives a mysterious message asking him to return to Praxus and disappears. Back on Cybertron, Prowl must come to terms with the horrors he witnessed as a young Enforcer and keep Barricade locked up. Meanwhile, Thundercracker has been having strange dreams where his long dead brother begs him to return to Praxus to stop an evil that is reawakening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Back

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long intro note. I posted the original version of this story on another site, but because of a scene I wrote, I decided to make a few changes and have one version of the story on that other site and an unaltered version on here. This story is still in progress so it just depends on how creepy/horror I want to go. Things will be different starting with Chapter 10. This story also has ties to a few other of my stories on the other site, but you don't have to read those to understand this one. If you are interested in any of those stories PM me.
> 
> Added disclaimer: don't own anything, just a fanfiction writer.

Bumblebee loved watching humans go about their daily lives. He saw how they would greet each other with a smile and ask how they were doing. He watched as the children chased each other in the park while the adults gossiped and took pictures. He wondered if Cybertron had been like this once upon a time. The war had long since destroyed anything that would resemble a human playground when he had been a sparkling. He did know some Cybertronian greetings, but he had little experience outside of the military decorum usually implemented (Jazz was an exception not a rule).

“Bee buddy you okay?” asked Daniel Witwicky as he opened Bee’s passenger door when he couldn’t get the yellow car’s attention.

“Hmm, oh I’m fine Dan,” said Bee. “Did you get all of the stuff on the list? Eleanora sounded desperate.”

“Dad said that would end as soon as she hit the third trimester,” said Daniel. “And yes I did get everything. I don’t want her bursting into tears again because I forgot her favorite dessert.”

“Did Carly have anything to say?”

“Yeah, ‘deal with it’. I swear mom is eating this up. She can’t wait to be a grandmother,” said Daniel scratching his head.

Bumblebee chuckled, “Well I’m excited. You were so cute as a kid. I can’t wait to see mini you.”

”Well Eleanora’s abuela thinks the baby is going to look like the perfect mix of both of us,” said Daniel. “I hope he looks more like Eleanora. I’d feel bad if he got my ears,” said Daniel laughing. “How’s Blue been?”

“He’s his usual chatty self. He was interviewed a few nights ago on a late night talk show. I think he enjoyed it,” said Bumblebee.

“Nice,” said Daniel. “The perks of being Cybertron’s ambassadors to Earth.”

“We’re not ambassadors,” snorted Bumblebee “More like the staff at the embassy.”

Daniel laughed as Bumblebee pulled up to his apartment building. “Thanks for taking me, Bee,” said Daniel. “Don’t forget the baby shower is next week. Remind Blue for us will you?”

“Will do,” said Bumblebee. “Let me know if you need to escape or go on an emergency ration run.”

“It won’t last much longer,” said Daniel. “I hope.”

The drive back to the Cybertronian Embassy was not too far. Though the Arc was still functioning inside the volcano on the west coast of the United States it crashed into, Optimus Prime had graciously accepted several new locations around the world for Cybertronian embassies. Bumblebee was currently headed to the one about a half hour from Washington DC. It was close enough to be polite, but far enough away to avoid the worst of DC traffic.

Bumblebee pulled up to one of the smaller buildings near the embassy and transformed. “Bluestreak I’m back,” he called as he entered the relatively large living space he shared with Bluestreak. The humans could have fit four large families in the space. “Daniel is nowhere near the wreck Spike was when Carly was pregnant. I think he’ll survive this without having his hair turn grey” He didn’t hear a response. “Bluestreak?”

Bluestreak’s door whooshed open. “Sorry Bee,” said Bluestreak his helm out the door. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“What are you doing?” asked Bumblebee as he came into Bluestreak’s room. Bluestreak was gathering the few possessions he owned.

“I got a message from Prowl,” said Bluestreak. “He wants me to visit Praxis. Apparently they’re about to start the rebuilding process and he thinks it would be good for me to go. It might bring some closure.”

“Oh,” said Bumblebee. “Do you think it will?”

Bluestreak sighed. His servos hovered over the few possessions he wanted to take with him. “I don’t know. I had hoped to never go back.”

 “When are you headed out?”

“When the next transport gets here.” said Blue. “Guess I’m missing the baby shower, huh. Will you give Daniel and Eleanora my present?” Bluestreak handed Bumblebee the wrapped bundle. “Do you think they’ll like it?”

“A blanket big enough for a baby whale? I think they’ll be thrilled with the fort possibilities,” said Bumblebee.

Bluestreak heard the sarcasm. “Thanks, Bee, you’re a real pal.”

“No I’m serious,” said Bumblebee. “I think Eleanora will appreciate the effort you made to hand make them a baby blanket.” He checked the time. “Come on, that new show is going to be available to download soon. We can be the first to post reviews.”

“Some things are definitely more fun when you’re directly connected to the internet,” said Bluestreak as he followed Bumblebee out into the living room.

“Except when you end up finding a fanfiction involving Hot Rod, Springer and some human fan girl,” laughed Bumblebee.

“You found that fic too?” asked Bluestreak. “I liked her imagination, but she got some of our anatomy wrong.”

“Wait you read the whole fic?” asked Bumblebee.

“I was curious,” defended Bluestreak.

“Have you been able to look Hot Rod or Springer in the optic since reading that?”

“Well…”

“Blue, they’ll be here on rotation next.”

“Okay so I haven’t seen them since I read the fic, but who knows, I might still be gone while they’re here.”

Bumblebee fell to the floor laughing. Bluestreak set up the TV so the show would start streaming. Bluestreak had to elbow Bumblebee to stop his laughter.

The show was pretty good, but nothing they hadn’t seen before. Bumblebee had already figured out half the plot. He glanced at Bluestreak. “What do you think Prowl wants you to find in Praxis?”

“I don’t know,” said Bluestreak with a sigh. “I’m not even sure what closure means. Prowl faded out too quickly. He said he was near the ruins and that the connection wasn’t very good.”

“Well I hope you find, you know, whatever ‘closure’ is,” said Bumblebee.

There was a long pause.

“Do you think there are any sparklings on Cybertron right now?” asked Bumblebee.

“Maybe, why?”

“I just think it would be cool, you know, to finally meet a sparkling,” said Bumblebee.

“Is this because of Daniel?” asked Bluestreak.

Bumblebee rubbed his helm. “It might be,” he said. “I just wish, I don’t know, to meet a baby bot. Wheelie doesn’t count. He was a youngling when we met him.”

Bluestreak thought for a minute. “I bet you’d make a great guardian,” he finally said.

“What?” said Bumblebee. “But I’ve never even seen a sparkling. How could I take care of one?”

“Can’t be too hard if Ironhide and Chromia were able to take care of you,” smiled Bluestreak.

“Thanks Blue,” said Bumblebee as he elbowed Bluestreak.

“But seriously,” said Bluestreak. “You’re great around the humans and look how their kids love you. You’re very good with them.”

“Maybe,” said Bumblebee.

“Come on, after this let’s look at some of the cute videos the humans post of their offspring,” said Bluestreak.

“I found this great one of a cat, a baby and a banana,” laughed Bumblebee.

“Is it better than that really old one of the dog trying to teach the baby to crawl?” asked Bluestreak.

“That one’s hard to beat,” said Bumblebee.

[break]

Thundercracker onlined his optics a little too quickly. His helm felt like it was spinning and he fell out of his bunk.

“Hey mech, you alright?” asked one of his many roommates, a squat dark red mech with molten orange optics. He had awoken to when Thundercracker fell.

Thundercracker rubbed his helm. “Fine,” he said. “I’m fine. Just a bad recharge cycle.”

 “War dreams?” asked the mech. Thundercracker offlined and then onlined his optics to clear his vision. He was having trouble recalling the mech’s designation. Thundercracker had not bothered to learn many of the mech’s names onboard their salvage ship.

 After he had spent a few stellar cycles helping to rebuild Iacon and being rehabilitated to “Autobot standards”, he had been allowed to join one of the salvage ships helping to find raw materials and wayward Cybertronians. There was a little bounty hunting on the side as well for both Autobots and Decepticons. Optimus Prime had requested they be brought back to Iacon to either stand trial for war crime or for rehabilitation. It was difficult to determine who should stand trial, since in war no one was innocent. Thundercracker had been surprised when he was permitted to join.

 “Something like that,” said Thundercracker almost too soft to hear.

“Yeah, I get ‘em too,” said the red mech. His designation had to have Iron in it. No that was that walking arsenal The Prime kept as a pet. Was it Runner? “My whole unit was taken out by ‘Bots. Strange having them run the show now. Didn’t think anyone would take out Megatron. Well, don’t know how things would have gone if we had won. ‘Bot sure wouldn’t be alive.”

“Megatron wasn’t one to leave survivors,” said Thundercracker. He was only half listening to the red mech prattle. He managed to pull himself back onto his berth.

“Nope, he wasn’t,” said the red mech. Gunner, the mech’s designation was Gunner. “Seems kinda funny it was a little Praxian that finally took him out.” Thundercracker jerked his helm up. “Oh, now I have your attention.”

Thundercracker snorted. “I’m glad he made it,” he said with a small smile. “Optimus is a better leader than we could have hoped for. He let us go, didn’t he?”

“Some of our mechs are still locked up,” said Gunner. He thought about that for a second. “But those mechs would have shot ‘Bot or ‘Con.”

Thudercracker was barely paying attention to Gunner. One of his other roommate’s engines sputtered in their recharge. Gunner rested his arms against his knees. “When’s your next shift on his rust bucket?”

“2 cycles,” said Thundercracker. “I landed first shift.”

“Want to trade? I have third.” Thundercracker raised an optic ridge at the mech. Gunner sighed. “You look like you lost a round to the Unmaker. Maybe some extra recharge will do you good.” 

Thundercracker couldn’t help the small smile that formed. “Thanks mech. I owe you one.”

“Forget about it,” said Gunner. “You saved my hide more times than I can remember sir.”

“I’m not a sir,” said Thundercracker.

“Right, sorry, must have been some other Commander Thundercracker,” said Gunner. He leaned back on to his berth. “Have a nice recharge.”

“You too,” said Thundercracker. He fell back into recharge almost right away.

_The Helix Gardens sparkled during the night cycle. Praxus was a beautiful city, full of life and culture. Thundercracker leaned back and enjoyed the humming sensation of the crystals against his wings. It was peaceful._

_And it was wrong. Praxus was gone. Thundercracker had been there when it had been raised to ground. He had been the one to-_

_“Brother, it seems you are enjoying the night.”_

_Thundercracker turned toward a familiar voice. A light blue, almost grey Praxian built mech stood a few meters away._

_“Grayscale?” gasped Thundercracker. His brother looked just like he had before Thundercracker had left to go to the academy in Vos. That was the last time he had seen his brother, until Praxus fell. Thundercracker shuttered his optics._

_Thundercracker felt his brother take a seat next to him. “It is peaceful here,” said Grayscale. His voice sounded like he was speaking through liquid. It echoed and felt distant. “I wish we could stay here forever. Do you remember when our carrier would bring us here?_

_Thundercracker opened his optics and turned to face his brother. “Why am I here?”_

_Grayscale smiled sadly. “I need your help.”_

_“I thought I’d be the last mech you would want help from,” muttered Thundercracker._

_Grayscale laughed. “You still sulk the same way after all these vorns.” His laughter echoed around the gardens. It was hollow and otherworldly._

_“I do not sulk,” said Thundercracker._

_“Brood then?”_

_Thundercracker cleared his intakes. “Is there a reason you’re here or is this just more cosmic punishment.”_

_Grayscale sobered. “I’m not here to hurt you.”_

_“You always say that when I have these dreams,” said Thundercracker. “Some orns I wish you would hurt me, yell at me, or blame me. Primus I wish you would punish me!” The last was a shout. Grayscale continued to smile sadly at his brother._

_“If it’s atonement you seek, I have a request for you,” said Grayscale. Thundercracker wilted in his seat._

_“How will a request from ghosts atone for what I did?”_

_“The war was not your fault,” said Grayscale. “It was your commanding officer who gave you those orders. It’s Megatron’s fault that Praxus is dead. You, your trine, were soldiers following orders.”_

_“Yeah, that’s right, I was following orders,” snarled Thundercracker. “I never stopped and said that doesn’t sound right. I never raised any objections.”_

_“And just what would you have accomplished if you had?” asked Grayscale. Thundercracker bit his lip component. “Nothing, Megatron wouldn’t have listened to you. He would have blasted a hole right where your spark is. I’m right aren’t I?” Thundercracker winced at his brother’s raised voice._

_“You’re right,” said Thundercracker._

_“And you risked everything to do what you could,” reminded Grayscale. “During the fall and after.” Thundercracker felt fluid fill his optics. “Will you help me?”_

_Thundercracker nodded his helm. He didn’t trust himself to speak._

_“Please return to Praxus.”_

_Thundercracker’s optics widened. “Why?” he asked._

_“Do you remember those old sparkling tales carrier used to tell us?” asked Grayscale. Thundercracker found himself nodding again. His carrier had told them many stories about Praxus, while their sire had told them all of the myths of Vos. They had been a happy family before his sire had died suddenly, taking their carrier with him._

_“What about those old tales?” asked Thundercracker._

_“Do you remember the one about the red crystals?” asked Grayscale. “The one about the priest of Primus who fell to the temptation of Unicron and attempted to summon one of his pit spawn?”_

_"He tried to awaken a pit spawn in the form of a young Praxian, but the other priests learned of the plan and stopped it before anything could happen. The old north temple of Praxus was said to guard the tainted crystals the fallen priest tried to use,” said Thundercracker. “The fallen priest would try to spirit anyone who got too close away to become possessed and be a vessel for Unicron. It was one of our favorite ghost stories.”_

_“It wasn’t just a story,” said Grayscale._

_“You’re not trying to tell me ghosts are real?” asked Thundercracker._

_“Aren’t you talking to a ghost?” countered his brother._

_“This is a dream,” said Thundercracker. “Just like all the other dreams you’ve been in.”_

_“Of course it is,” said Grayscale patting his servo. Grayscale felt cold and not quite solid. “What if I told you that after you left there was a report about a youngling and enforcer that were found in the depths of the north temple? The youngling had been homeless, though after the incident a family took them in. However, there were rumors that the youngling was more than a little odd. He was angry and violent all the time. Eventually the youngling ran off. The enforcer also was rumored to have been acting strange after the incident. He became cold and unable to feel any emotions.”_

_“This actually happened?” asked Thundercracker._

_“Everyone became interested in the story after that. The northern temple had to stop allowing the general population in until the hype died down,” said Grayscale._

_“Why are you telling me this?”_

_“Because the priest is still looking for a vessel,” said Grayscale. “I need you to go to Praxus and stop him from finishing what he started.”_


	2. Myths and Legends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy

Prowl held up his ID. The guard quickly checked then allowed Prowl to enter the hallway. It was brightly lit with high security cells lining each side of the hallway. It reminded Prowl of a zoo back on Earth, but instead of animals inside the cells there were mechs.

Prowl walked the length of the cell block. Occasionally he would glance at the mech occupying a cell. He spotted Vortex sitting on his berth, cackling madly at the wall. Chop Shop was a little further down, dismembered dolls hung from his ceiling. The guards had had to remove the mech who had been across from him.

Near the end of the hall, Prowl stopped. His cold blue optics took in the mech in this cell. The guard next to Prowl hesitated at opening the cell door. “Are you sure this is wise sir?” he asked.

“He won’t cause any problems,” said Prowl. The guard nodded and opened the cell.

“Stand up, servos out,” barked the guard, Ranger. Prowl recalled that the he had been stationed at an Autobot POW camp near a neutral stronghold before the war had ended.

The mech in the cell stood up slowly from his chair. He held out his servos and a small smile formed on his faceplate. Ranger put stasis cuff around his wrists, set to the highest setting.

“Prowl, how nice to see you again. Has it been a metacycle already?”

“It is good to see you as well, Barricade,” said Prowl.

Ranger gave Barricade a gentle push. “You’re to walk ahead of us.”

“Oh, I get to go outside today?” asked Barricade. “My Prowl, you’re spoiling me.”

The walk to the prison’s quart yard was silent. The Ranger led Barricade to a seating area. Barricade sat down, uninterested in the fact that he was magnetized to the seat. Prowl took the spot opposite to him. Ranger stood guard close by.

“This is nice,” said Barricade. His smirk grew as Prowl’s frown deepened.

“The guards tell me you’ve been behaving,” said Prowl in his usual monotone.

“They know best,” said Barricade.

“They also said you’ve been talking in your recharge cycles again.”

Barricade snarled. “Oh, hoping to gain more insight to the criminally insane? They’d have more luck analyzing Chop Shop’s little room of horrors. Frag, I bet that yellow psychopath you like to keep around provides more insight than I do.”

Prowl tilted his head. “Sunstreaker has sociopathic tendencies. Last time I checked, that didn’t make him a psychopath.”

“I saw him rip a mech’s helm from his frame once,” said Barricade. “Why isn’t he locked up with the rest of us? His Autobot status grants him immunity?”

“Both of the twins are receiving therapy elsewhere,” said Prowl. He was not about to give Barricade any further details. They were all damaged, some more than others. Optimus Prime was confident that with time all Cybertronians would be able to rejoin their rebuilt society. Prowl was less confident. He would personally see to the end of any mech who allowed Barricade to walk free.

“Still keeping us separated? I thought you Autobots were all about the love and that slag,” Barricade laughed at his own joke. Prowl continued to stare at him. “Where the frag is my second chance?”

“There aren’t many who would kill mechs and then drain them of all their fluids to consume,” said Prowl.

“Oh, is that why I’m here?” asked Barricade. He tried to fake wide optic innocence. It never worked with Prowl. “I swear officer. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Barricade started laughing.

“You know perfectly well that you wouldn’t have had to come here if you hadn’t killed those neutrals after the treaties were signed,” said Prowl.

Barricade rolled his neck, loosening the joints. “I didn’t know the treaties had been signed.”

“You will never be allowed anywhere near Praxus, ever again,” said Prowl.

Barricade sobered. “You can’t stop it Prowl,” he finally spat. “Megatron might be dead, but there are other ways to summon the Unmaker.” Barricade flashed a smile filled with razor sharp teeth. “You’ve been having the dreams too.”

Prowl barely managed to stop his doorwings from twitching. Barricade saw the slight hesitation. He threw his helm back and laughed.

“Ahahahaha! Being around so many Primes might have been able to help heal you emotionally,” said Barricade. “But he’ll never be able to take away all the effects. You’re still as expressive as a rock. Do you still glitch when it becomes too much to feel? Gahahahahaha!”

Prowl stood up. “Ranger,” he barked. “We are finished here. I will help you escort the prisoner back to his cell.”

Ranger approached the laughing mech. As he reached out to release Barricade from the magnets, Barricade whipped his head around. He met Prowl’s optics and said “They are calling Prowl. Praxus is calling. And they will wail in spilt energon over and over and over again. Ha ha ha!”

Barricade continued to laugh even as the energon bars flickered back to life on his cell. “Oh, my dear Prowl, that’s why I’m here isn’t it. It’s not because I’m crazy, it’s because you hate the truth. Unicron is coming. The red crystals are calling for us, Prowl. Praxus wants us and Praxus will have us.”

The shouting followed Prowl out of the high security block. Prowl turned to Ranger. “Add more guards to this cell block. If Barricade tries anything, inform me immediately. If you can, move him to an isolated area.”

“Sir, are the other prisoners in danger?” asked Ranger. “Barricade hardly shows any of the same levels of aggression the others do.”

“It’s not aggression I’m concerned about,” said Prowl. “He’s planning something. Don’t think for a moment he’s not dangerous.”

Prowl dropped down into his alt mode as soon as he was clear of the facility. He kicked up some debris in his hast to get away from the mad mech that still haunted his recharge cycle. If only he had been faster, if only he had believed in those old sparkling tales. It didn’t matter now.

It was a long groon and a half drive back to his office in Iacon. Prowl pushed his engines to the limit to shorten the drive as much as possible. As he approached the newly constructed city limits, his comm went off.

::Prowl::

::Hey Prowler, ya look like the Unmaker is after yer tailpipe:: came Jazz’s cheerful voice through the link. Prowl shuddered. Jazz had no idea how close to the truth he was. ::Are ya alright mech?::

::I am acceptable:: replied Prowl. ::What do you need?::

::Just wanted tah let ya know, OP wants tah meet ya in a groon. Said he needed tah talk tah ya and Smokie::

Prowl wasn’t fooled for a minute. Jazz wouldn’t have commed him about something so trivial. ::What do you want?::

Prowl pulled up in front of the new government headquarters. Jazz was waiting for him on the steps outside. Prowl transformed and studied his long time friend.

“Shall we head to yer office,” suggested Jazz. He must have caught wind of something juicy if he didn’t want to risk Prowl locking him out of his office. Then again that had never stopped Jazz before. Mirage and Bumblebee had been just as bad before the end of the war.

Prowl’s office was neat and clean. Jazz flicked some imaginary dust off of the desk before perching himself on the edge. “Went tah see Barricade again?”

“Yes,” said Prowl.

“Why do ya keep doin’ this to yerself?” asked Jazz. “Ya’ve been visitin’ him every megacycle. It ain’t like he’s goin’ tah be leavin’ that place anytime soon.”

Prowl straightened a stack of reports on his desk. “It’s something I have to do.”

“This ain’t about those weird dreams ya’ve been havin’?”

“Jazz,” warned Prowl.

“Nah, I’m serious mech. Those dreams have been keepin’ ya up at all hours. Ya haven’t slept in nearly a stellar cycle.”

“Not now,” said Prowl. His office door chimed. “Enter,” called Prowl.

Smokescreen stepped into the office. “I was told to come get you,” said Smokescreen addressing Prowl. “Prime’s ready to see us. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” said Prowl. “Jazz was just leaving.”

“This ain’t done, Prowler,” said Jazz. “I’ll be seein’ ya tonight even if I have to drag ya out of this office.”

Prowl flicked his doorwings as he passed by Jazz. The door closed behind him. “Did Optimus say what this meeting was about?” asked Prowl.

“He said he had a few questions about Praxus,” said Smokescreen. “I think he wants to collect stories from all the major city states. He has talked Dirge into compiling sparkling tales from Vos and Mirage is digging up stories the towers used to pass down.”

Prowl hummed. “I’m not sure how much help I will be with that,” he admitted. “I barely remember things like that.”

“Surely you told Bluestreak stories when he was a youngling,” said Smokescreen.

“Jazz provided much of Bluestreak’s entertainment,” said Prowl.

“Really, you don’t remember any sparkling tales?” asked Smokescreen. “Not even the scary ones? I remember going to Deadmech’s Bend with friends to see if the ghost of the mad transport mech would run us off the road. What about the story of the fallen priest and red crystals of the northern temple?”

“No,” said Prowl, though his doorwings quivered. “I don’t seem to recall any of those stories.”

Smokescreen snorted. “No wonder you’re so serious. You were denied the most basic part of younglinghood. Even most preprogrammed mechs I knew visited Deadmech’s Bend. Slag, I remember when that youngling and enforcer were pulled out of the catacombs of the northern temple. Mech’s claimed they had been spirited away by the evil priest.”

Prowl hummed again as they approached the door to the Prime’s office. Prowl could remember the northern temple. They were memories he wished he could forget.

Optimus greeted the pair of mechs warmly. Elita-one, Ultra Magnus, Starscream, Soundwave and Shockwave were sitting in plush chairs around the large desk. “I have a special request from the two of you. I was hoping you could help us to identify areas of Praxus that we will need to preserve or at least try to. I don’t want us to accidently destroy a cultural landmark in our haste to prepare the city for rebuilding.”

Prowl stiffened. “I thought we were not going to start on Praxus until after Polyhex and Uraya were fully restored?”

“Vos is almost completely rebuilt,” said Starscream. “I would like to see her sister city returned to its former glory as well.”

“Really,” said Smokescreen quirking an optic ridge. “And here I thought it was your seekers who started the bombings.”

Starscreem snarled at the Praxian, but it was Shockwave who answered. “In a show of control, Megatron order the destruction of Praxus. It had been part of the deal with Vos to leave Praxus alone. It was a false promise, like so many others…” His voice trailed off. Long vorns of isolation had left him disillusioned and skittish around other mechs.

Prime put a reassuring hand on Shockwave’s shoulder. “All is forgiven, it is time to heal and rebuild.”

“Did he ever say why he wanted Praxus destroyed?” asked Prowl. Five blank pairs optics turned to stare at him, while Shokewave continued to study the ground. “It held no strategic importance and it took more resources than were gained.”

“Other than to ensnare the seekers into their own personal pit,” said Starscream “I can’t think of any.”

“He had been looking for something,” said Shockwave. He shrunk back as the other occupants focused on him. “He had asked me to experiment on some of the crystals from Praxus. They were red, an awful red.”

Prowl froze. _How had Megatron gotten a hold of red crystals?_

“Red crystals?” asked Optimus Prime.

“I remember seeing some red crystals in Praxus,” said Starscream. “I don’t remember them being different from any of the other crystals.”

“Well, there were red crystals in the gardens,” said Smokescreen. “But usually they were polluted with another mineral that altered the color slightly.”

“What kind of red?” interrupted Prowl. Shockwave studied his servos. “We’re they dark, almost crimson? Did they feel…wrong?”

“I don’t like thinking about them,” said Shockwave. “I think they were a dark red. They were terrible to have around.”

“Do you know from where Megatron obtained them?” asked Prowl.

“Prowl, this isn’t an interrogation,” protested Ultra Magnus.

Optimus raised his servo to silence Prowl. “Do you know something about them, Prowl?”

Prowl glanced at Smokescreen. “Starscream are you familiar with the Praxian story of the Fallen Priest of the Northern Temple of Primus?”

Starscream reset his optics. “What does an old folk tale have to do with these mysterious crystals?”

“More than you know,” said Prowl. “Smokescreen, you are likely more familiar with the legends than I. Could you retell one of them?”

Smokescreen shifted slightly on his peds, his doorwings sung up in agitation. “Prime?” he asked his leader for permission.

“Please, continue Smokescreen,” said Optimus. “Perhaps I can add them to my collection while we’re at it.”

“Well,” began Smokescreen. “The way I heard it was like this, after the first Cybertronian Revolution, the one where we tossed those Quints off our planet.”

“We are all familiar with general Cybertronian history,” interrupted Starscream. “Get to the point.”

“Starscream: desist interrupting. Smokescreen: continue story,” said Soundwave speaking up for the first time.

“Right, well,” said Smokescreen. “The city states were all starting to form and build their temples to Primus. Praxus has five points. So our city built their temples at each of these points, the east, the west, the southwest, the southeast and the north. Each temple had their own set of practices and rituals they would use. If one wanted good health, they’d go to the southeastern temple. If a mech wanted to find a good mate, they’d go to the western temple.

“The northern temple was the primary location for gaining wisdom. At least that’s what I’ve heard. It was pretty run down when I was a youngling. It was said that there were a couple of methods to gain this wisdom. You could do a ritual meditation and hope you’d get a vision or you could ask a priest for a reading of some sort.”

“What like one of those psychic readings from a late night human TV show?” asked Starscream.

“Starscream,” warned Elita-One.

“No, it’s alright,” said Smokescreen. “Actually, most Praxians, well I mean, by the time I was around, didn’t go to the northern temple. There were still priests there, but for the most part only the really brave or really stupid went to that temple. You see, around the early years of the first Golden Age, a priest went mad during one of their ‘readings’.

“From what I heard, as a youngling that is, a young Praxian noble had gone to the temple with a question of sorts. Some say he wanted to know if he’d be a Prime some day. Others would swear that he was trying to get in contact with one of the 13. But my carrier used to tell us that what he really wanted to know was when the end times would happen.”

“The end times?” asked Ultra Magnus. “What like the end of Cybertron?”

Smokescreen nodded.

“Would you get to the point already?” demanded Starscream.

Smokescreen huffed air through his vents. “Fine, anyway, everything was prepared for the ‘reading’. The young noble asked his question and the priest went into his trance. Everything seemed normal until the priest started convulsing, then his optics started glowing and he spoke in a deep voice. ‘Pathetic mortals, I am he who will unmake you.’”

“Is the voice necessary?” asked Starscream.

“You can leave if the story is scaring you,” said Elita One pointing at the door.

“I’m not scared,” snarled Starscream. “This mech can’t seem to get to the point.”

“You know what,” said Smokescreen. “Some people just don’t understand atmosphere. I was trying to give the Prime a decent recount of a famous ghost story, but I can see I am under appreciated.”

“Smokescreen,” said Prowl quietly. “As much as it ruins the atmosphere, we are in a meeting and other things do need to be discussed.”

“You can add in more details later,” added Optimus. He smiled kindly at Smokescreen.

“Alright,” said Smokescreen. He crossed his arms over his bumper and lowered his doorwings slightly. “Anyway, the priest went on a murderous rampage. They say he killed the young noble and several of the priests before he ran down into the catacombs under the temple. Enforcers were called to find him and when they did he had built an altar and was offering the mech fluid he had drained from his victims to Unicron. He then turned his knife on the Enforcers. According to the legend it was like he had suddenly gained impenetrable armor and it took a direct blow to his spark to finally kill him.

“When he was finally dead, all of his mech fluid rushed out of his frame. It wasn’t normal mech fluid though. It was supposedly bright red and it was thick, so thick that crystals started to grow from the puddles. They say the crystals were an unnatural red color and hummed at a frequency that caused horrible hallucinations.”              

“So, you think the crystals from that legend are the ones Megatron was having Shockwave examine?” Prime asked Prowl.

“There are other stories,” said Prowl. He glanced at those gathered in the large office. “When I was an Enforcer, the younglings like to challenge each other to find the catacombs of the northern temple and steal a shard of the red crystals from the mad priest’s ghost. As a rookie I often had this patrol.”

“It also wasn’t the best part of Praxus then, right?” asked Smokescreen.

“No,” agreed Prowl. “It had a high crime rate and many homeless. The priests would try to shelter the mechs that they could, but it was difficult. I often had to take an orphaned or runaway youngling to a Youth Center.”

“Oh, were you on the force when that youngling and Enforcer went missing?” asked Smokescreen.

“What does this have to do with your little story?” asked Starscream. Ultra Magnus had to restrain Elita One from hitting the obnoxious seeker.

“More than you would think,” said Prowl. “I’ve seen those red crystals before.” Prowl looked directly at Shockwave. “And I know what they can do.”

“Wait a klik,” said Smokescreen waving his servos and doorwings wildly. “You were the Enforcer?”

“Yes,” admitted Prowl. “I don’t really remember how I got down into the catacombs, but I do remember the crystals and the mech who commanded them.”

Prowl briefly paused and met the Prime’s optics. “It has been a long time since then, but I still remember what it felt like to lose the ability to feel anything. It wasn’t until….” Prowl’s voice trailed off.

“It wasn’t until Praxus was destroyed that you were able to feel emotions again,” finished Optimus.

Prowl nodded. “Being around the Matrix of Leadership and All Spark helped as well, but it wasn’t until the fall of my home that I was able to feel any emotions stronger than contentment or discomfort.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Not even Starscream dared break it with a snide remark.

Ultra Magnus was the one who finally broke the spell. “Prowl, if you were the enforcer, who was the youngling?”

“It was Barricade.”

It was not Prowl who had spoken, but Shockwave. “It was Barricade, wasn’t it Prowl?”

“Yes,” said Prowl.

“How did you guess that?” Starscream demanded.

“He was the mech who gave Megatron the red crystals,” said Shockwave.


	3. Those Who Are Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you guys notice any errors. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

Prowl was exhausted, but he refused to show it. After not being able to feel emotions for a good chunk of his existence, it was still foreign to express them. He had recounted his story to the Prime, sparing no detail. It left him drained.

Prowl palmed open the door to his suite and wasn’t at all surprised to find Jazz lounging in his favorite chair. The lounge chair had been specially made with his doorwings in mind. Prowl tilted his faceplate to the side.

 “Is there a reason you’re here?”

 “Can’t a mech visit his good buddy after a long orn?” asked Jazz with an innocent smile.

 “Of course,” said Prowl. “If said ‘good buddy’ knocks first.”

 Jazz leapt from the chair and gestured for Prowl to sit down. “I saved you a seat.”

 “How generous,” said Prowl. He sat down in the chair. Jazz motioned to two energon cubes on the table as he pulled a stool up to sit on. “I take it you heard about my time with Optimus and the others? Where was Mirage?”

“Wasn’t ‘Rag,” said Jazz.

“I haven’t authorized any new recruits,” said Prowl.

Jazz smirked. “Soundwave had one of the lil guys watching. Nothing ya need to worry yur helm about.”

Prowl frowned. “If you say so.” He took a sip of the offered cube. “Is this about Barricade or my dreams?”

“Both Ah would expect,” said Jazz. He studied Prowl through his visor. Prowl couldn’t guess his thoughts from the expression. “Did ya authorize Bluestreak tah come back tah Cybertron?”

 Prowl shook his helm. “No, I thought he didn’t want to return.”

 “So did Ah,” said Jazz. He put his energon cube down with a soft thud. “Ah got a call from Bee. He was askin’ if Blue had made it here alright and if ya were goin’ to Praxus wit ‘im. Hot Rod and Springer are already drivin’ him crazy.”

 “I didn’t know Bluestreak was going to Praxus,” said Prowl. “That area hasn’t been cleared yet for work. We still need to make sure the city is structurally sound enough for mechs to be on the ground there.”

 “That’s what Ah told Bee,” said Jazz. “He said ya were the one who told Blue to meet ya there. Said ya wanted Blue to have some closure after everything that happened.”

 Prowl’s processor was starting to feel heavy. “Why would he think I told Bluestreak to come back?”

 “They got a transmission from ya,” said Jazz. “Ah take it ya neveah sent a transmission?”

 “No, I haven’t spoken to the Earth team in decacycles,” said Prowl. Maybe he should have contacted them more often. “Do we know where Bluestreak is?”

 “Ah had Trailbreaker pull up tha coordinates for his shuttle,” said Jazz. “It landed in Praxus half an orn ago. We tried raisin’ ‘im on comms, but we only got static.”

 “Where did the shuttle land?” asked Prowl.

 “Tha northern district o’ Praxus,” said Jazz.

 “Can you get me a shuttle ready?” asked Prowl. “I need to go there now.”

 “Already on it,” said Jazz. “Bee’s comin’ too. He’s already on his way.”

 “No, I need to go now,” said Prowl.

 “Bee’s going wit ya,” said Jazz. “Don’t raise a fuss about it. I want one o’ mah mechs with ya. ‘Rag and Ah have an assignment coming up. That just leaves Bee. Don’t argue!” Jazz held up a servo to cut off Prowl’s protest. “Ah know ya want to get there yesterday, but ya can’t go in like ya are right now. Bee will be here in a groon.”

 Prowl nodded. “I will gather up what we will need.”

 Prowl’s comm buzzed. He raised a servo to answer. ::Prowl::

 ::Prowl:: said the Prime over the comm link. :: If it’s not too much trouble, could you please meet me for some energon in my quarters? I have a few more questions for you::

 “Who is it?” asked Jazz pointing to the side of his helm.

 “Optimus,” replied Prowl. “He would like me to join him in his quarters.”

 Jazz quirked an optic ridge. “Did ‘Lita finally convince him tah ask ya for a three way?”

 Prowl’s helm mildly ached at the thought. :: I will be there shortly, sir:: he said over the link.

 ::Thank you Prowl, I’m especially curious about these dreams you’ve been having:: Optimus ended the comm link before Prowl could respond. His helm gave another dull throb.

 “Hey, mech, ya okay?”

 Prowl became aware of Jazz tightly gripping his shoulder and barely keeping him on his peds. “I have been better,” said Prowl. He managed to straighten up. “Optimus is aware of my dreams. Did you tell him?”

 Jazz shook his helm. Any sign of his usually playful nature was absent. “No,” said Jazz. “Ah didn’t think they were that bad yet.”

 Prowl rubbed the space between his optics. “At least this will give me some time to speak to him about some personal time. I want to keep this mission off the record, at least until we’ve recovered Bluestreak.”

 “Ah’m wit ya on that,” said Jazz. “Bee’s comin’ in on stealth. Ah’ll make sure everythin’s ready for ya.”

 “Thank you,” said Prowl.

 Prowl quickly made his way to out of his quarters to visit Optimus. It was a few kliks walk.

 When Prowl arrived at the door, he knocked softly on the Prime’s quarters. Since returning to Cybertron, the barracks like lodgings they had grown accustomed to had been substituted for more apartment like housing.

The door opened and Prowl stepped into the room. It was warm and homey.  Prowl vaguely recalled similar homes when he was much younger. Optimus Prime was sitting on a well loved couch he had received as a gift from one of his friends on Earth.

Optimus stood up to greet Prowl. “Thank you for coming to meet with me,” he said.

Prowl gently dipped his helm in greeting. “I am always available to help serve my Prime.”

Optimus chuckled. “Don’t say that around Elita, she might think I’m cheating on her.”

Prowl managed a tight smile. “Really,” he said. “Jazz suggested that you two had been planning on inviting me to your berth for quite some time.”

“I wonder how Jazz got that idea,” said Optimus. After a short pause he became serious and motioned for Prowl to sit down on the empty seat across from him.  “I wanted to thank you for sharing your story today. I knew Praxus had many local legends and, well, ghost stories as the humans would say.”

“Was it also the Matrix that told you of my affliction?” asked Prowl.

“The dreams or your lack of emotions?”

Prowl studied his leader and friend. “Both I suppose,” he said slowly. “Though I admit, I had a feeling you were aware of my run in at the northern temple.”

“Yes,” said Optimus. “Some of the memories the Matrix showed me involved a young, emotionless mech studying meditation practices with Sentinel Prime under Master Yoketron. Was it the lessons or the proximity to an artifact of Primus that helped?”

“Both I suspect,” said Prowl. “Though, as I said, it wasn’t until Praxus fell that I was able to feel anything close to what I could before the incident. It was like seeing the sun after a long foggy night.”

Optimus smiled at the poetic words. Prowl had come a long way since his early years in the Autobot army. “Was the story Smokescreen told the one you grew up with as well?”

“One of many,” said Prowl. “I was always fond of the version with a mysterious mech showing up at the temple one night during an acid storm. The mysterious mech turned out to be The Fallen and he was able to tempt the priest to the side of Unicron.”

“A much less theatrical version than the one Smokescreen told,” said Optimus.

“Yes, his story was certainly the most popular of his generation,” said Prowl. “How did you find out about my dreams? Did Jazz tell you?”

Optimus shook his helm. “A feeling from the Matrix. I have been having visions of Praxus. You are in them along with a few others.”

“Others?” asked Prowl.

Optimus looked uncomfortable. “I’ve heard that Bluestreak had been scheduled to go to Praxus, yet it hasn’t been cleared for mechs to explore. Trailbreaker has reported to me that he is now missing.” Optimus briefly paused. “My visions have shown Bluestreak, as well as Bumblebee, Barricade and Thundercracker all in Praxus.”

“What else have you seen?” asked Prowl. His processor was starting to ache. He might believe in higher powers, but the finer points of religion continued to be illogical.

“I’m not sure,” admitted the Prime. “But then again, my visions rarely give many details.”

Prowl nodded. “Then I have your permission to go to Praxus as soon as Bumblebee arrives?”

“Of course, old friend,” said Optimus. “Please bring Bluestreak home.”

* * *

 

Thundercracker eyed the southern Cybertronian horizon. The sky wasn’t like back on Earth, with vibrant colors and fickle clouds. They sky was always starry on Cybertron. One of the moons was low to the southeast, Lunar 1 most likely.

“Was Vos that way?” asked Gunner transforming next to the seeker. He pointed along the horizon, where Thundercracker had been staring.

“Yes,” said Thundercracker. “Along with her sister city Praxus.”

“Never knew why they were considered sister cities,” said Gunner. “Only fliers and you seekers were able to get around Vos.  Praxus was a city for us grounders.”

“My sire once told me that Praxians were decedents of grounded fliers,” said Thundercracker. “That’s why they had sensory wings. Back before Cybertron was a united planet, Praxus and Vos made a treaty to help protect each other. The fliers would protect the skies and watch for approaching enemies. The grounders would offer back up for the fliers, provide cover fire if they fell and prevent anything from happening to the towers that were the foundations of Vos. There were rumors that they were also supposed to be the first sentries against an underground army, but I think those were just sparkling tales.”

“Guess that relationship ended well,” said Gunner. “One city destroyed by Autobots, the other Decepticons, one city’s survivors fighting for the ‘Cons, the other fighting for the ‘Bots. Sounds like you guys had a great relationship.”

“It was a mistake to destroy Praxus,” said Thundercracker.

“Did ya spend a lot of time there?”

“I grew up there,” said Thundercracker. “My carrier was a Praxian. When I was old enough to join the Vosian academy, my sire took me to Vos.”

“Oh,” said Gunner.

“Vosians and Praxians were always inter-bonding,” said Thundercracker. “It was quite common.”

A loud whistle alerted them to the end of shift. “Looks like it’s quitting time,” said Gunner. Thundercracker continued to look out at the horizon. “It’s still going to be there tomorrow, mech.”

“You don’t know that,” said Thundercracker.

Gunner gave Thundercracker an odd look. “I know that the war is over. I know that my shift’s just ended. I know that that’s,” here Gunner pointed at the raising moon “Lunar 1. And I know that tomorrow the captain’s going to wake our sorry afts up for another delivery. Stop worrying so much. Now let’s head in for a cube.”

“I’m leaving actually,” said Thundercracker.

“Huh?”

“I’m leaving,” repeated Thundercracker. “This was my last shift. I handed in my resignation this morning.”

“You don’t have to sound so formal,” laughed Gunner, then his face hardened. “You sure you want to head out? Cyberton’s a waste land. How long do you think you’re going to last out there by yourself?”

“I have way,” said Thundercracker not caring to elaborate.

“Well, if you ever want to come back, I’ll put in a good word for you,” said Gunner. Thundercracker nodded. “Just where are you headed to anyway?”

“Praxus,” said Thundercracker. “I have a promise to keep.”


	4. It Was Home Once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my hopes of finishing this story by Halloween seem to be wishful thinking at this point. Please enjoy the story and let me know if you guys notice anything off.

Bumblebee hopped off of the transport and stretched. A few of his joints popped at the movement.

“Hey Bee!”

Bumblebee turned at the sound of his name.  Gears, Beachcomber, and Brawn waved him over. “I didn’t think I’d get much of a welcoming committee,” Bumblebee said.

Brawn laughed. “We heard through the usual sources that you might be back here for a klik.”

“It’s good to see you again, Bee,” said Beachcomber.

“At least Earth hasn’t rusted you through yet,” said Gears.

“It’s good to see all of you again,” said Bumblebee. “Unfortunately I won’t be here long.”

“Yeah, we heard about Blue,” said Brawn instantly sobering. He rubbed the back of his helm. “I overheard Trailbreaker taking the message when it came in.”

“Yeah,” said Bumblebee. Brawn and Gears hadn’t always been able to tolerate Bluestreak. More often than not, they would drive him off with a harsh word or two. “Have there been any transmissions from Praxus? Has Blue made any attempt at contact?”

“Not that any of us have heard,” said Gears.

“Maybe the signal is being blocked by something,” said Bumblebee. He looked at Brawn. “Didn’t you often work in Praxus before the war?”

“A long time ago, yes,” admitted Brawn. “But Bee, you have to understand. Praxus was a unique city. They weren’t fond of outsiders knowing much.”

“But there’s always the possibility there’s something blocking his signal,” said Beachcomber seeing Bumblebee’s face fall. “Praxus had many defenses, as did her sister city Vos.”

“Not like they helped much when the seekers showed up,” muttered Gears. Brawn whacked him upside the head.

“Look, Bee, we just want you to be careful,” said Brawn.

“I know,” said Bumblebee. “Praxus isn’t stable-”

“It’s not just that,” interrupted Beachcomber.

“There were a lot of odd rumors about Praxus,” said Gears. “Us minibots steered clear of the winged cities unless we really needed the work.”

“What’s so bad about Praxus?” asked Bumblebee.

“It produced Prowl,” said Gears sarcastically. Brawn smacked him again.

Beachcomber pulled something out of his subspace. “Bee, take this,” he said holding out a very light blue crudely cut crystal. Bumblebee carefully took the crystal from Beachcomber. It felt warm to his touch and seemed to pulse slightly in his servos.

“Don’t lose it,” added Gears.

“Thank you?” said Bumblebee. “What is it?”

“It’s a crystal to protect you,” said Beachcomber.

Brawn snorted. “I told Optimus we should have been the ones to raise you. Those tall mechs forget we minibots have our own cultures.”

“Oh, like you had the time and resources to look after a minibot sparkling,” said Gears. “Ironhide and Chromia were officers. They had perks.”

“Quiet you!” said Brawn grabbing Gears by his collar plates.

“The point is,” said Beachcomber ignoring his companions. “We think it’s time we shared some of our traditions with you. We didn’t have a lot of opportunities during the war.”

“And then you decided to stay on Earth,” grumbled Gears.

“We wanted to tell you,” said Beachcomber. “We really did.”

“It’s not just you,” added Brawn. “All of ya younguns, Cliffjumper, Pipes and the rest, weren’t taught our traditions and stories. Haven’t you ever wondered why there isn’t a city state for our kind?”

“Um,” Bumblebee struggled to put words to his thoughts. _Why were they telling him this now?_

“We’ll have plenty of time for that once Bee gets back,” said Beachcomber resting a servo on Brawns arm.

Gears looked darkly at the light blue crystal in Bumblebee’s servo. “Keep that charm close.”

“Charm?” asked Bumblebee looking down at the crystal.

“It’ll protect you,” said Beachcomber.

“From what?”

“Anything that might be lurking around Praxus,” said Brawn.

Bumblebee was becoming more confused. “Why are you guys being so vague? Why not just tell me what you think is in Praxus? It’s a dead city. Aside from Bluestreak and a few scavengers, who could possibly be lurking around Praxus?”

“We’re not really sure,” admitted Beachcomber.

“But like ya said, Praxus is dead,” said Brawn. “And the dead are of a world all their own.”

“What the frag?” said Bumblebee just as he heard another voice call out.

“Bumblebee, there you are.” Prowl stood at the opposite side of the hanger. “We move out in one breem. Head to the ship to start take off procedures.”

“Get, going,” said Brawn. “We’ll catch up when you get back.”

The three older minibots left their younger companion gaping. Bumblebee shook his head and made his way over to the shuttle Prowl had indicated. “Sir,” he said catching his former commander’s attention. “Is there something about this mission I should know about before we take off?”

Prowl paused in his checking of the ship’s parameters. “What do you mean?” asked Prowl.

“I don’t know,” said Bumblebee taking the seat next to Prowl. “Beachcomber, Brawn and Gears were acting a little odd. They also gave me this crystal.” Bumblebee showed Prowl the light blue crystal.

Prowl stared at the small crystal. His helm felt lighter than it had, like when he had been a youngling, and his thought briefly cleared. He was filled with a sense of guilty, worry and a strange calm. Without thinking Prowl cupped his servos around Bumblebee’s smaller one. “I think you should keep that in a safe place.”

Bumblebee shot Prowl a concerned look. He opened a pocket in his armor and carefully put the crystal inside. “Okay, Prowl,” he said. “Are we clear to head out?”

Prowl straightened up. His logic center and tacnet taking control back from his more emotional processor.  “Yes, everything seems to be in order. We’ll be in Praxus in half an orn.”

* * *

Thundercracker landed softly on the western outskirts of the once great city. He knew that on a clear day, if he looked to the southwestern corner, he would have been able to see what remained of the pillars connecting Praxus to Vos 

This was not how Thundercracker wanted to see the city he grew up in. Praxus should be vibrant and noisy. Tourists should be lining up to see the famous crystal gardens. Younglings should be playing in the many parks throughout the city. A city like Praxus was never meant to be this still.

He sighed. “Alright Grayscale, I’m here.” He gazed towards the northern part of the city. “But first, I have to do something.”

Thundercracker reached into his subspace and pulled out a cube of energon. Gunner and the foreman had insisted he take enough to last him 5 orns. He should have plenty for this mission. He took a sip form the cube. The energon was not the highest quality, but it was still better than what he had survived on before Megatron’s fall.

“I guess I’ve finally come home,” he muttered and finished the cube in two large gulps.

Thundercracker tossed the cube into the distance. One more piece of junk to add to the landscape. With a small jump, Thundercracker was airborne again. He didn’t bother transforming. He didn’t have far to go and the thought of flying in his alt mode made his tanks churn.

The western half of Praxus had once had several smaller residential sections surrounded by administrative buildings. They hadn’t been as big as the neighborhoods to the east or the apartment towers that had stood in the center of the city. The neighborhoods here had primarily served as a bridge between the two cities and other immigrants to the city. Most of the families had been mixed.

It didn’t take long for Thundercracker to find his destination. On a street that had been in a Vosian Praxian neighborhood stood a series of crumbling townhouses. Thundercracker touched down in front of the second to last home. He reached out his servo to touch the lock on the front door.

_Bam!_

Thundercracker whipped around. He expected to see debris from a fallen building or some other form of destruction. Instead, he saw a grey form stagger out from the shadows.

It was a mech. Thundercracker was about to go to the mysterious mech’s aid, but hesitated. The mech was a sickly grey color and jerkily took a step towards Thundercracker. It was an unnatural movement. The mech opened his mouth and let out a low groan.

“Excuse me,” said Thundercracker. “Are you alright?”

The mech was only a few paces away now and he let out another eerie groan. Thundercracker tried to back up, but he found himself trapped against the door. The mech lunged at him. Sharp claws dug into Thundercracker’s wings.

“Ahh,” screamed Thundercracker. The mech continued to groan. Vorns of training allowed Thundercracker to quickly reach into his subspace and pulled out his blaster. He shot the mech clawing at him in the center of the chest plate, right where his spark chamber should be.

The mech fell backwards onto the broken ground. Thundercracker leaned one servo against the door frame. He took a few deep cycles of air through his vents to help himself cool down. As he felt himself calm down, Thundercracker straightened up and slide the door open to the townhouse.

There was a groan from behind Thundercracker. Thundercracker turned around. The mech whom he had shot in the spark was slowly pulling himself to his peds. Thundercracker’s spark pulsed wildly. He fell through the entry way of the townhouse. The mech stood to his full height. Thundercracker shot at him again, blowing the mech’s helm clean off his shoulders.

Thundercracker jumped up and slammed the front door closed. He shot at the lock. Thundercracker tested the handled and found he had successfully jammed the door.

“Well,” he said. “That was unexpected.”


	5. Dying, But Not Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy!

Thundercracker put his audio against the door. He heard the distinct sound of metal hitting metal, then a low groan. He sighed. “He’s more stubborn than an Insecticon.”

The room was dark. A thick layer of dust covered every inch of the room. The holo-photographs that used to cycle through the family’s photos had lost their battery charge after so many vorns and the mechanical clock on the wall was stuck at 7 breems past 2 groons. Nothing looked damaged or out of place.

Thundercracker pushed himself off of the wall. He walked to the entrance of the closest room. It was a sitting room. A few chairs were toppled over and a vase that used to hold a crystal plant had shattered. Thundercracker picked up one of the chairs and set it right. 

“Nothing’s changed,” he said. “I almost wish….” Thundercracker shook his helm.

The silence was broken by a small thud from upstairs. Thundercracker tensed. He pulled up his blaster and took off the safety. He would not be caught off guard again. Carefully, Thundercracker approached the stairs. He slowly climbed upwards, making an effort to not make too much noise.

The upper hallway was still. The dust was undisturbed. Maybe something had fallen in one of the rooms. Thundercracker didn’t want to take that chance. He kept the blaster up, ready to shoot anything that moved.

He checked the first room. It was large, with a single berth meant for a bonded couple. Thundercracker swept through the room. “Clear,” he muttered to himself. He had liked the cop drama’s he had seen on Earth. He had watched them often with Ravage.

Thundercracker paused for a moment at one of the shelves. He picked up a painted metal etching of a small family. It was of a Praxian couple holding the small form of a sparkling. Thundercracker felt fluid fill his optics. He brushed one of his servos over the taller Praxian in the etching. He took a deep vent of air and put the image back in its place. He needed to keep his helm on straight before he was consumed by the past.

Thundercracker went back to the hallway. He checked the dusty floor and confirmed that only his ped prints had been through that part of the hallway. The next room he came to was the washracks. Nothing appeared out of place.

That left the last room. Thundercracker had hoped to avoid this room. He stood, staring at the door for a solid breem before he could bring himself to push the door open. The room’s once bright colors had faded with time and toys still littered the room. As overwhelming as he felt, Thundercracker couldn’t help noticing that the dust in this room had been disturbed. Small spots where the dust had been kicked up were scattered all over the room, the highest concentration near the tiny berth opposite the door 

Thundercracker kept his blaster ready as he approached the berth. If it was another one of the grey mechs, he would easily be able to shoot them from his crouched position. Thundercracker reached out to move the mesh from his view and saw a pair of bright blue optics.

Thundercracker almost fell backwards from shock. He quickly caught himself and put his blaster on the small berth. He, then, tried to make himself look as unthreatening as possible.

“Hello, little one,” said Thundercracker. He reached out a servo to the frightened youngling. The youngling covered his optics with his tiny servos. Thundercracker couldn’t help his small chuckle. “I can still see you.”

The youngling uncovered his optics. He stared at Thundercracker for a few kliks. Thundercracker opened up his arms. “It’s alright,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Slowly the youngling crawled out from under the berth. Thundercracker almost expected the tiny mech to pass right through his armor, but he was solid. The youngling was not another ghost from Thundercracker’s past. Thundercracker hugged the youngling. He hesitated in asking his next question. It couldn’t possibly be who he thought it was.

“What’s your name, little one?” he asked.

He waited for a response. None came. Thundercracker pulled the youngling out of the crook of his neck and gazed at him. The youngling was silently crying.

“Can you not speak?” asked Thundercracker.

From behind tiny servos, the youngling nodded.

“Do you know who I am?”

The youngling uncovered his optics and studied the seeker. A look of confusion crossed the youngling’s faceplates. He shook his helm no.

“Do you know how you got here?”

Again, the youngling shook his helm no.

Thundercracker hugged the youngling back to his chest. The youngling was warm and very real. There was no way a youngling could have survived all of this time in the dead city. Even more strange was how the youngling got into this room. He surely would have left footprints in the dust if he had been walking around the house. Who was this youngling?

* * *

Bumblebee maneuvered the small craft closer to the rugged landscape. They were approaching the north eastern part Praxus. It was hard to look at the landscape. The city had been reduced to rubble in a matter of breems and it showed. Towering skyscrapers had fallen in on themselves making the horizon look jagged, like a poorly serrated blade 

Bumblebee had never been to Praxus. He had been found after a major battle, abandoned as a sparkling outside of Crystal City. Praxus had fallen not too long after that and the southern part of Cybertron had been taken by the Decepticons.

Bumblebee looked over at Prowl. He seemed even tenser than usual, doorwings strained in an uncomfortable position. Bumblebee worried his commander might not be able to take the stress of seeing his home in ruins. He had vague memories of Prowl glitching when he had heard the news his city had been attacked.

“Prowl?”

Prowl turned to look at Bumblebee. “Are you alright, sir?”

Prowl shuttered his optics, composing himself. His doorwings relaxed slightly. “It’s a difficult sight to see,” he admitted to the minibot. Bumblebee nodded in sympathy. “It has been a long time since I’ve been back.”

“There’s a signal coming from the western part of the city,” said Bumblebee.

“You’re sure?” asked Prowl.

“Yes,” confirmed Bumblebee. “Do you think its Blue?”

Prowl frowned in his oddly Prowl way. “The odds are that it is Bluestreak’s, as Praxus is still a restricted area. We should head to that section.”

“I’m also picking up some sort of static,” said Bumblebee. “But, it’s weird. Almost like it’s a pulse. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it. Do you have any ideas?”

Prowl scanned the city. “Hopefully it’s nothing,” he said. “Let’s check out the signal in the western part of city.”

“Any thoughts on where I should have us land?” asked Bumblebee.

“There used to be a large open garden near the western temple. Debris there should be minimal,” said Prowl.

“Is that close to where we need to go?”

“It will have to be,” said Prowl. “The signal is coming from a residential district that suffered the most during the first wave of bombings. I do not want to risk the shuttle falling into a lower level of Praxus.”

“Understood sir,” said Bumblebee.

The area Prowl had indicated to land was one of the few flat places left in Praxus. Bumblebee easily landed the ship in the open. “Thank Primus we don’t have to worry about stealth anymore,” he said.

“Hmm,” said Prowl. “I’d still prefer if we had more cover for the ship, but it’s too risky with how unstable our surroundings are.”

“Who’s going to attack us out here?” asked Bumblebee. “You don’t think any rogue Decepticons or Neutrals are out here?”

“My battle computer has calculated a 5% possibility of there being hostiles in the vicinity,” said Prowl. “Though it is unlikely, they could be using a dampener to mask their signal. Praxus has been left mostly untouched since we attempted to rescue any survivors.”

Bumblebee winced. He barely remembered the rescue attempts made to help Praxus. He could recall a story about monsters and finding the sole survivor, Bluestreak, crying one night in the medbay. At the time he hadn’t realized who Bluestreak was. He thought he was just another youngling who was scared of the big bad monster hiding in the vents.

“I’ll keep my blaster ready,” said Bumblebee. He pulled out his blaster from subspace and magnetized it to his hip as he stood up.

Prowl nodded. “It would be for the best,” he said pulling his own acid rifle out.

The exited the shuttle. Bumblebee kept a look out, while Prowl secured the shuttle. If anyone was wondering around Praxus, they would need Autobot access codes to get inside the shuttle. If Bluestreak came across it first, he should know to send out a message altering Bumblebee and Prowl where he was.

“In the interest of safety, I advise not transforming unless it is necessary,” said Prowl. “It wouldn’t be ideal if we had two injured mechs in our party.” He started walking in the direction of the signal.

“That’s if Bluestreak is injured,” said Bumblebee. He followed close behind Prowl and kept one optic on the surroundings behind them, once an ops bot, always an ops bot.

The western Praxian temple towered over them as they made their way closer to the signal’s origins. Though it had been heavily bombed, the temple was still an impressive sight. It had three towers that still stood, marking three of the five points of Praxus. The two southern points had collapsed into the surrounding buildings. Crystals, that had once been carefully tended too, grew out of every crack in the lower structure and reminded Bumblebee of ivy he had seen growing on old buildings back on Earth.

At one time each of the towers had been painted a separate metallic color. A coppery gold hue was just visible under the grim of the western tower and he could make out traces of an ivory color on the eastern tower. The northern tower, however, did not look as run down as the others. It was a vivid shade of red, almost like the color Sideswipe liked to wear. Unlike the other towers that had multicolored wild crystals clinging to them, the ones growing on the northern tower were all a slightly darker shade of red.

_Clink, clank._

Bumblebee jerked around to check that the shuttle was still where it was supposed to be. It was fine. He released his tense shoulders just as Prowl fired a single shot.

Bumblebee raised his blaster, ready to shoot the attacker. They were out in the open and completely vulnerable. It was better to shoot first, ask questions later.

“What was it?” Bumblebee asked. “A Decepticon?” He saw a grey form twitching on the ground. It looked like a mech, but not a live mech. Its armor was a sickly grey color, like how someone looks before they rejoin the Well of Allspark.

“I don’t think so,” said Prowl. He fired another shot at the twitching mech. “Go, make for the temple as fast as you can.”

Bumblebee didn’t skip a beat. If Prowl gave an order, you followed it, no questions asked. He sprinted to the closest entrance, Prowl on his heels. He grabbed the ancient door handle and tried to slide the door open only for the handled to break clean off the door. Behind them, he could hear what sounded like uneven footsteps quickly closing in on their location. Prowl fired another shot.

“The door’s busted,” said Bumblebee.

Prowl picked up a piece of debris and threw it as hard as he could at the second floor window. “Scale the tower and go through that window,” he ordered.

Bumblebee scrambled up the side of the tower, using the wild crystals as servo and ped holds, and pulled himself through the window. Prowl fired off another round into their attacker. Bumblebee got into position, vorns of training taking over as he made sure his superior got to safety.

As Prowl climbed through the window, Bumblebee registered that their attacker was moving in an almost impossible manner. Apart from the sickly shade of grey, the mechs helm was hanging on to his frame by a few wires and rested against the mech’s chest plate upside down. One of the mech’s arms was twisted in an unnatural angle and it looked like a knee joint had been rusted so that he couldn’t straighten his leg.

“He just doesn’t know when to quit,” said Bumblebee.

“No,” said Prowl. He pulled out an explosive. “It is unlikely he will be able to follow us up here, but I’d rather not take any chances.” He dropped the explosive. As it went off, the crystals they had used to climb up the tower shattered. The mysterious mech was thrown back by the blast. Bumblebee watched with wide optics as he climbed back to his peds, came back to the tower and tried to claw his way up the side of the building.

Prowl watched the mech for a breem as if he were studying a particularly disgusting bug. Bumblebee raised his blaster to shoot at the mech again, but Prowl put a servo on his arm. “It won’t do any good,” he said. “All it appears to do is slow him down.”

“Do you know what that is?” asked Bumblebee.

“I’m not sure,” said Prowl. “It seems illogical, but my best guess would be a living corpse somehow reanimated to attack the living.”

“Oh Primus,” said Bumblebee. “You mean it’s a zombie.”

“Yes, I suppose that is the best description for it,” said Prowl. “We had other names for them when I was a youngling.”

“So, how do we kill it? Do we need to decapitate it or crush its spark?” asked Bumblebee.

“It doesn’t have a spark,” said Prowl. “If I remember correctly, the only ways to destroy the reanimated was the use of a blessed crystal from Primus, a mere cut will release the evil holding the corpse and it will collapse. That or melt it with corrosive acid.”

“And your acid gun didn’t work because…?” asked Bumblebee.

“Insufficient quantity,” said Prowl. “And I believe the acid needs to have cosmic rust mixed in so that the reanimated mech’s frame disintegrates.”

“Well, that’s just great,” said Bumblebee. “Where are we going to get either of those things?”

“Where indeed,” said Prowl.


	6. Just A Setback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak floats in and out of consciousness. Jazz and Smokescreen investigate a horrific scene. Thundercracker attempts to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's October!!! Halloween is almost here!
> 
> Writer's block has been plaguing me for a while. I don't know if I will be able to finish this story by the end of the month like I originally wanted or not. I did just get back from vacation so I will hopefully have more chapters soon, but I've also just entered into a writing competition against my cousin which might eat up a lot of my time.
> 
> What did I get myself into.

Bluestreak thought he felt cold, but he couldn’t feel his frame. It reminded him of long missions he used to go on wouldn’t move for orns at a time to catch his target. It was as though his spark was turning to ice. He refused to panic. Instead he focused on remaining calm by reciting his and Bumblebee’s favorite TV episodes. At least he was able to think, but thinking wasn’t always a good thing. Thinking lead to dark places.

Bluestreak had no luck powering up his optics. He could hear, at least he thought he could hear. There was a strange humming sound. It consumed his being. It matched the pulse of his spark. In a way it was oddly comforting. He was still too cold.

What was he thinking? He was a former sniper of the Autobot army. He needed to…he needed to… he needed to relax. He had plenty of time to figure this out. He had been stationary for much longer. Bluestreak slowly allowed himself to be pulled back into oblivion.

* * *

 

Red Alert was having a bad day. The camera updates he had scheduled were not going as planned. Sideswipe had taken the opportunity to use the random camera blackouts to glitter bomb the hallways. He had only managed to be caught because Grimlock had walked into one of the bombs. Grimlock was currently being vacuumed out by a very grumpy Ratchet, while Sideswipe cleaned up the hallways.

Glitter, as it turned out, was very difficult to clean. Red Alert signed as he tested another motion camera. “I’m going to need Jazz’s team to check for blind spots again,” grumbled Red Alert. At least Special Operations were less likely to plant glitter anywhere. Too flashy for their taste and it got everywhere.

A small buzzer behind where he sat went off. A young minibot, Pipes, checked the incoming message. “Sir,” he said.

“What is it?” asked Red Alert. “I told everyone not to interrupt me while I’m updating the camera.”

“But sir,” said Pipes. “It’s from one of the rehab centers.”

That caught Red Alert’s attention. “What are they reporting?”

“It looks like a breakout,” said Pipes.

“How bad?” asked Red Alert. His horns were starting to spark with the stress. They did not need a mass breakout of crazy former Decepticons running around.

“We’ll they’re reporting one mech missing,” said Pipes. “And, oh Primus.”

“What?” asked Red Alert. His horns were now sparking in a quick pulse. “What else are they reporting? Is it a hostage situation?”

“Sir, they’re reporting 13 fatalities,” said Pipes in a small voice. Just because he was the messenger didn’t mean he wanted to be the one to make Red Alert glitch. Ratchet routinely threatened anyone who dared glitch Red Alert or Prowl with an invasive filter cleaning. “They’re reporting that the dead mechs have all been, well, offered to each of the 13 original Primes.”

That was all it took for Red Alert’s world to go black.

* * *

“Dear Primus, how did I get involved with this?” asked Smokescreen. 

“Usually Ah’d ah had Prowler here,” said Jazz surveying the gruesome scene. “But Ah can’t get a hold ah ‘im and ‘Bee.”

“Yes, but I would have thought Ratchet or First Aid would be better suited,” said Smokescreen. “Why me?”

“Ya worked with tha enforcahs before tha war,” said Jazz.

“As a white collar criminal consultant,” said Smokescreen. “I never worked with homicide.”

One of the guards walked up to Jazz and Smokescreen. “Sirs,” he said. “I am 1st Capitan Cornerstone. I’m currently in charge of things here.”

“Ah’ve seen yur service record,” said Jazz shaking Cornerstone’s servo. “Whut exactly happened here?”

“We’re still investigating everything. If I hadn’t seen the recordings, I wouldn’t believe it myself,” said Cornerstone.

“And that would be?” asked Smokescreen. He was tired of all the cryptic bullslag.

“Well, something, we’re not sure what, caused a massive power outage in this section. The backup generator kicked on right away like it’s supposed to, except for this block,” explained Cornerstone. “When we were finally able to restore power eleven of the inmates were dead along with two guards.”

“How long was the power out in this section?” asked Smokescreen.

“About 5 breems,” said Cornerstone. “We’ve checked for any visuals or audios that might have been recorded during that time, nothing.”

“Is everyone accounted fer?” asked Jazz.

“All except one inmate,” said Cornerstone. “We’re not sure how he escaped. The doors can only be opened when there’s power going through them.”

“Is that true for all of the cell doors as well?” asked Smokescreen.

“Yep,” said Cornerstone. “That’s what makes all of this so fragging unbelievable. None of the inmates should have been able to get out of their cells, let alone into another inmate’s cell. Yet, each inmate has been found mutilated in their own cells.”

“And who was it that escaped?” asked Jazz.

“Barricade,” said Cornerstone.

Smokescreen’s wings hitched way up at the name. Jazz didn’t show it, but hearing that the mech Prowl checked on was the one who escaped set him on edge. “Was Barricade acting any different than normal before this happened?” asked Jazz.

“What’s normal in this place?” asked Cornerstone. “This section hosts the craziest of the crazy Decepticons.”

“Anything at all?” asked Smokescreen.

“Well,” said Cornerstone. “We can give you the surveillance for his cell from the last few orns for you to look at. Not sure it’ll do you any good. He never really did much unless Prowl was here.”

Smokescreen looked at the cell that had been Chop Shops. His limbs hung from the ceiling like one of his eviscerated dolls. “And the others?” he asked.

“They were a bit more active,” said Cornerstone. “We had to move Vortex to a different wing because of Chop Shop’s doll hobby.”

“And who were tah two mechs who weren’t inmates?” asked Jazz.

“Tempest was our psychology expert,” said Cornerstone. “He wasn’t really an expert, but he was the closest thing we had.”

Cornerstone had to take a klik to get his emotions under control. “Ranger was a guard here. He was…he was a good friend.”

Jazz nodded. Prowl had mentioned Ranger, apparently he had been recruited out of a neutral colony to guard a POW camp. Barricade had not made his death quick or painless. His body had been impaled against the back wall of Barricade’s former cell and his internals sliced out. He would have lasted a few breems before succumbing to his injuries. Jazz had seen Barricade’s handy work before. He had only managed to save one of his agents from the mad mech.

“Do we have any ideas as to where ‘es goin?” asked Jazz.

“Unfortunately not at this time,” admitted Cornerstone. “But like I said, maybe his surveillance tapes will help.”

“Thank you Cornerstone,” said Jazz. He turned to Smokescreen. “It looks like we’re going to have a long orn.”

“Great, you do remember I never actually graduated from my psychology program, right?” asked Smokescreen.

Jazz shrugged. “Prime and Ratchet don’t seem to mind. And your methods have been shown to work.”

Smokescreen stamped his ped. “This is completely different,” he said. “I wasn’t trained to understand the criminally insane.”

“No, but you are a tactician,” Jazz snapped back. “And we need to know where Barricade is headed, now.”

* * *

Thundercracker checked the area outside the townhouse again. The weird mech had disappeared, but that didn’t mean the area was safe. He looked down at the sparkling in his arms. The little guy hadn’t made a sound since Thundercracker had found him. 

A few breems after he had found the sparkling, he had gotten a signal from a shuttle approaching the city. He signal was Autobot, but that didn’t mean they were friendly. Unfortunately, the mech who had attacked him had shredded his wings, so there was no way he could fly the two of them to safety. They would have to travel on the ground and hope the mechs on the shuttle were friendly.

“What do you think?” Thundercracker asked the sparkling. “Do you think that was the only dangerous mech around?”

The youngling shivered, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge Thundercracker’s question. Thundercrack wasn’t sure if it was because the youngling was unwilling or unable to speak.

“I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to climb up to the roof and walk along the row of houses,” said Thundercracker out loud. He adjusted his grip on the youngling. “I’m going to put you in my canopy, alright?”

The youngling looked up at Thundercracker with big blue optics. After a klik of staring, the youngling nodded his helm once. Thundercracker opened his canopy and helped the little guy inside. Once the youngling was secured, he closed his canopy and checked outside the window again.

“If I remember right,” said Thundercracker. “There should be a way onto the roof from the attic. Now, where was the entrance to the attic?”

Thundercracker had only been in the attic of this townhouse once and that was to help put the Festival of Lights decorations away for the season. It had been the last time he had been in this townhouse until the fall of Praxus. Thundercracker rubbed the area around his spark chamber. He didn’t want to think about the fall of Praxus and the horrors he had committed that day.

“The washracks,” said Thundercracker. “It’s in the back of the spare closet.” Thundercracker hurried to the washracks and opened the small door at the back of the closet. He quickly climbed up the narrow staircase and found himself in the dust filled attic. He knocked into one of the many boxes that littered the room.

A quiet melody began to play. It startled Thundercracker and he almost tripped over his peds. An old music box had fallen from it spot on one of the boxes. Thundercracker recognized from his younglinghood. He picked it up and set it back on the box. The youngling shifted in his canopy. Perhaps he recognized the lullaby. Impulsively, Thundercracker picked the music box back up and sub-spaced it.

Thundercracker reached the window that lead out to the roof of the townhouse. He unlatched the window and looked out. The deathly grey mech was still nowhere in sight. Thundercracker slipped out of the window and hoisted himself up onto the roof. It was stable. Hopefully it was a sign that his luck was changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hoped you guys liked the chapter.


	7. A City of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Bumblebee arrive in Praxus. Thundercracker is drawn further into the cursed city.

“Primus, I hope our escape route doesn’t include anymore doors,” grunted Bumblebee as he tugged at the bottom of the door that would free him and Prowl from their current sanctuary. Prowl let go of the top part of the door.

“Bumblebee, kindly step back,” said Prowl pulling up his acid gun. Bumblebee took a few steps away from the door.

“Uh, Prowl, are you sure that’s going to work?” asked Bumblebee.

Prowl fired off a few shots from his gun. The acid ate away at the lining between the door and its frame. He pulled the handle and the door fell out of its frame onto the floor beyond.

Bumblebee nodded his helm.  “Sorry I doubted you,” he said.

Prowl faintly smiled. “I would have thought after so many vorns of knowing me, you’d have learned to trust my orders.”

Bumblebee looked a little sheepish, and then realized Prowl was trying to lighten the mood. “So you do know how to tell a joke,” said Bumblebee, following Prowl down the hall. “I can’t wait to tell Sideswipe.”

They checked the small hallway that led from the room they had escaped from. A stairway wound itself down from one end of the landing and there was a small round window opposite the door.

“I believe these stairs lead to the back of the atrium,” said Prowl. “We should be in the meditation cells.”

“Meditation cells?” asked Bumblebee.

“To better clear the processor and speak with Primus or one of his avatars,” said Prowl. “I was not privy to the details of the practice. The priests were known for their secrecy.” He started down the spiral staircase.

“Seems like there were a lot of secrets in these temples,” said Bumblebee following Prowl.

The walls that surrounded them were covered in vorns old grim and faded murals with chipped paint. Prowl kept his acid gun up and at the ready. Bumblebee made sure to keep up, but took the time to glance around.

“What are all these paintings of?” asked Bumblebee.

Prowl glanced at one of the murals. “I believe they depict historical events important to Praxus.” He trailed his servo along a faded image of a Praxian warrior fighting a grayed mech. There was an odd pattern framing the mural. He frowned. “Though, I could be wrong.”

Bumblebee watched Prowl. “Maybe they’re Praxian stories, like the ones Optimus was collecting. I’ve seen similar murals in Earth museums,” he said.

“Perhaps,” said Prowl. He studied another mural with a mech holding spear with a clear blue tip that seems to radiate and repel its enemies. “Bumblebee, would it be possible to look at the crystal your friends gave you?”

“Sure,” said Bumblebee carefully taking out the crystal. He handed it to Prowl.

It was like a sudden weight had been lifted from Prowl’s shoulders. His doorwings, usually held at an uncomfortably tight position, relaxed and seemed to slightly flutter. He held the crystal up to the mural. “Interesting,” he said quietly.

“Interesting?” repeated Bumblebee. “Prowl, what’s going on? What do those patterns mean?”

“They are in a very old dialect of Praxian,” said Prowl.

“A dialect of Praxian?” asked Bumblebee. “But I thought there was only one language on Cybertron.”

Prowl laughed. It was light and free, like a leaf floating from a tree branch down to a river. Bumblebee had never heard Prowl laugh like that. “In ancient times, before the Quintessa, Cybertron was not the united planet we were during the golden age. Much like what we saw on Earth, different cultures with their own languages, writing styles, and frame types developed. When the Quintessa conquered our world, they destroyed the individuality of these city-states. Some cultures were able to hide their knowledge either written or through oral traditions.”

Prowl turned back to Bumblebee. He held out the crystal. “Though much of the knowledge was lost, what remained after the Quintessa were expelled was reclaimed.  In the early years after that war, it was the priests who maintained those records. I’m certain if you went to temples in Iacon, Simfur, or Crystal City, you would see similar murals.”

Bumblebee took the crystal from Prowl and put it back into his subspace. “Hey Prowl, after the Quintessa left, did the minibots, ya know, have their own city-state?”

Without the crystal in his possession, Prowl seemed to tense back up. His doorwings were once again held tightly against his back. “I’m afraid I don’t know that,” he said. “Minibots are a secretive nomadic group, as far as Cybertronian records are concerned. It is likely that the Quintessa destroyed any city-state they had developed and due to the war, were unable to rebuild.”

Bumblebee sighed. “I guess I’ll have to ask Brawn and Beachcomber when I get back.”

There was a loud banging below their peds. Prowl brought his acid gun back to the ready. “Be ready for anything,” he said.

“Maybe it was a glitch mouse,” suggested Bumblebee taking the safety off of his gun.

Prowl’s doorwings flicked back. “We are rarely so lucky.”

* * *

Thundercracker ran along the length of the townhouse roof tops. He kept a sharp optic out for any unstable paths. He nearly fell through the roof of a few of the buildings.

“Oh frag,” he cursed as he found himself at a dead end. It was either climb down the side of the building and risk running along the ground or back track quite a bit to find a more stable path. There was so much rubble in his line of sight that it was hard to tell if the strange mech was around or if he had any friends.

Did he risk running on the ground?

He could hear the start of a dull rumbling beneath his peds. Small bits of debris rattled against the roof top where he stood. It felt like the ground was shifting.

Thundercracker turned around and saw the tops of the townhouses he had been running across shift back and forth. The rumbling grew louder until it reached a deafening crash. Then the townhouses started to collapse.

Thundercracker was able to keep his balance as the surface he stood on shifted. The damaged ended just shy of where he was standing.

“Primus, either you really are looking after me, or you have one sick sense of humor,” grumbled Thundercracker as he surveyed the damage. He now had no other option but to try to make it across the open area and find a place to seek shelter.

He was still in the Eastern Area of Praxus, but he was getting closer and closer to the central hub of the city. The Eastern Temple wasn’t too far from his current location. He could see the crystals growing off the towers. They seemed to glow ominously. It was close to where the signal he had picked up originated. Hopefully he could get there in one piece.

With a sigh, Thundercracker turned towards the center of the massive city. No signs of life could be detected from the burnt buildings. Wild crystals were also growing off of many of the decaying structures, but none of them were as bright as those that grew off of the Temple in the city’s center. It wasn’t really a temple, not like the other five. It had been an elaborate garden with a shrine in the center that had four large pillars and one obelisk mirroring the location of each of the five original temples of Praxus.

Thundercracker felt a shiver go up his spinal strut. Neither of the paths seemed all that safe, especially with the youngling he was transporting. The signal had come from the east. It was his most likely chance at getting out of the city. It could also be a trap, but something told him it wasn’t.

“Primus, I would really appreciate it if you stopped messing with me for a little bit and let me get to safety,” said Thundercracker. “Grayscale, I can’t stay here in any longer. I hope you understand.”

After his small prayer, Thundercracker gently climbed down from the roof he had been perched on. He again checked the area for any movement. He didn’t detect anything. Thundercracker ran as fast as he could, using the Eastern Temple as his focal point.

He thought about climbing up another set of row homes to run across the roofs again, but the area seemed to have taken more damage than the others. It was too risky. He turned down an alley way and popped out onto a main road. The ground under him started to shift again. He changed direction and headed down another side street.

Thundercracker’s path was blocked by a collapsed high-rise building. It might have been easier to climb through the broken windows, but the ground was still shifting and all it would take was one loose piece of glass to finally end him.

“I just can’t catch a break today,” Thundercracker muttered to himself. He felt as though some unnatural force within the city was trying to herd him further into its center. After turning down a few more side streets, Thundercracker checked his position against what he could see of the Eastern Temple. He didn’t seem to be getting much closer to it. He checked his position to the Temple in the center of the city. The pillars were definitely growing closer.

“What is it with this city!” yelled Thundercracker. He stamped his ped against the ground. He wasn’t familiar with this district and had no idea which streets to take to get to the Easter Temple. “If I could fragging fly, this wouldn’t be a fragging problem.”

_Clang! Bash! Bang!_

“Oh, slag, that’s all I need,” said Thundercracker. The noise was coming from behind him. Vorns of heightened war senses told him there was more than one being approaching. Thundercracker took a deep vent and turned around.

Four deathly grey mechs were closing in on him. Three of them jerked and twitched as they walked forward. The last mech dragged himself across the ground, clawing away with shaky arms.

“Oh joys,” grumbled Thundercracker sarcastically. “There’s more than one.” He grabbed his gun from subspace and started shooting. The mechs weren’t phased by the hits. “Frag me to seven pits!” Thundercracker decided his best course of action was to run as fast as he could away from the freaky mechs. They weren’t that fast and he was a Seeker.

Thundercracker turned to run and found himself surrounded by more grey mechs. “You’ve got to be fragging kidding me,” he said. He was caught like a glitch mouse in a trap.

The ground started to shift again, the rumbling growing to a thundering crash as it had before the roofs collapsed. The deathly grey mechs were within a few meters from Thundercracker. He wasn’t sure if he should start praying or laughing hysterically.

He was about to kick on his thrusters and attempt to fly, when he felt the ground pull out from under him. He fell down into the depths of Praxus.

Somehow, Thundercracker managed to curl himself into a ball and safely roll to a stop. Dust and rubble covered him. He took in a few deep vents to calm himself down. After a few kliks, he uncurled from his protective ball and glanced around. None of the grey mechs had fallen down with him.

Thundercracker flicked on one of the lights on his body. They weren’t as bright as grounder’s headlights, but he could see there were a path and possibly a collapsed tunnel. Thundercracker looked up from where he had fallen. He could see the sky from his position. It was a dark pink color, similar to energon spilt from an injured mech.

“Fine!” yelled Thundercracker. “I’ll go this way, but it sure as pit better lead me out of this forsaken city! You hear me Primus or whoever you are! I will not be manipulated by you!”

Getting out all of his anger felt good. It made him feel more in control. He looked around again for a second path or a way to climb out of the hole he had fallen into. There was only one visible path.

“Grayscale, I hope you’re looking out for me. I could really use some help,” said Thundercracker.

Thundercracker walked for what felt like orns. His legs were starting to hurt and he could feel the youngling in his hold growing restless. Younglings should not be cooped up for too long. He kept telling himself that he just needed to go a little further, that there would be an exit just up a head.

Being underground was disorienting and he couldn’t tell which direction he was going. After a few more turns, Thundercracker found himself in a large underground chamber. The air felt lighter than the tunnel he had just walked through. A glance up showed a few small alcoves where one or two mechs could rest.

Thundercracker felt a kick in his hold. “Don’t worry young one. I’ll let you out soon,” he said. The youngling must be hungry. He quickly scaled the wall and climbed into one of the alcoves.

The youngling tumbled out of Thundercracker’s hold when he finally popped it open. “Sorry,” said Thundercracker to agitated youngling. “I had hoped to have gotten the two of us to safety by now.”

Thundercracker pulled two energon rations from his subspace. “Here,” he said. He handed a ration to the youngling. “I’ll get us out of here soon. Luckily my friend gave me enough energon rations to last a while.” He smiled at the youngling. The youngling smiled back at him and took a sip of the offered energon.

They drank their energon in near silence. It was quiet, but the air wasn’t still. Thundercracker’s wings could detect a cool draft. If he followed the draft, maybe it would lead him out of the tunnels. It was worth a shot, but not at the moment.

Thundercracker felt his body becoming heavy and his optics were starting to flicker. He was tired and in dire need of rest. He had to shake himself to stay awake. The youngling next to him yawned. 

“I think we both need some recharge,” said Thundercracker to the youngling. He subspaced what was left of their rations. He leaned back against the wall of the alcove. The youngling crawled up his chest and settled his tiny head against his spark. Thundercracker put a servo over the tiny body. It would just be a short recharge. After all, danger was still all around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have a theme of posting these chapters right before bed time in my timezone. So I just want to wish all my readers a good night.


	8. Cold Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak wakes up in a cold dark cell. Bumblebee and Prowl escape from the temple. Barricade returns to Praxus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a fun October. Let me know if you guys spot any errors. I'm hoping to get some more chapters up soon.

Bluestreak’s helm felt heavy, like it was stuffed full of medical gauze. His frame and spark felt so cold. He knew he was drifting in and out of consciousness, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

_Bluestreak, you need to wake up._

Was he in the medbay? Is that why he was having a hard time moving? Who was encouraging him to wake up?

_Bluestreak, it is growing too dangerous for you here. I need you to wake up._

Bluestreak felt his frame start to respond. Vorns of training taught him to always obey the orders of Optimus Prime. It had to be the Prime who was speaking to him. The voice was gentle, but strong and reassuring.

_That’s it Bluestreak. It is time to awaken._

The icy cold feel of Bluestreak’s frame started to give way. He found that he could twitch the digits on his servos. Slowly his optics lit up. His helm was starting to hurt and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to sit up just yet.

_You need to leave soon, Bluestreak. The fallen ones are coming. They are coming._

An odd humming sound filled his audios. It was hypnotic. The vibrations rattled his frame and he didn’t want to move.

“Do I have to?” muttered Bluestreak to the ceiling. It must be really important if Optimus wasn’t going to let him recover from his injuries. He rolled onto his side and flexed his doorwings behind him. They were stiff from being under him for so long.

_Yes, you must young one. Allies are on their way, but you must try to escape before it’s too late._

“Too late for what?” asked Bluestreak. Optimus wasn’t making any sense to him.

_You must go._

Through sheer willpower, Bluestreak pushed himself up with one arm. “Alright, I’m up,” said Bluestreak. “When do we roll –”

Bluestreak looked around the tiny room he was in. He was sitting up on a solid metal slab. It was dark and there were no doors or windows that he could see. He was also completely alone. Strange, wasn’t Optimus just here with him?

“I must have really hit my helm,” said Bluestreak bringing up one servo to rub against his helm. It still ached slightly. “Where in the pit am I?”

His doorwings twitched in time to the pulsing hum. He looked up and saw a dull blue glow. “I wonder if I can reach that,” he said to himself. He felt battle ready, something he hadn’t thought he’d ever feel again. Slowly he got to his peds. He had to use the grime covered wall to help pull himself up. Once he was sure he wouldn’t fall over, Bluestreak reached up as high as he could.

His servo fell short of the opening to his cell. If he had to guess, he was in a room that opened up to another room above it. Had he fallen down here?

“I guess I can’t get out that way,” Bluestreak said to himself. “There has to be another way out.”

He studied the room he was in. There were just four dark, blank walls. His legs were starting to shake after being still for so long. He tried to brace himself along the wall as he slide back down to sit, but between the twitching of his doorwings and his unsteady legs, he ended up falling off the side of the metal slab.

“Woah!” yelled Bluestreak as he hit the floor. He took a few deep vents to calm himself down. He glanced under the metal slab. There was space under it for a mech to crawl. He flicked on his headlights.

The floor was almost as smooth as the walls, except for a section that looked like a puzzle piece. Bluestreak crawled under the slab. He traced the area of the floor where the odd piece was. With a little pressure it moved under his touch. He put a little more weight onto his hands and pushed hard.

The piece fell away and Bluestreak almost went with it. He caught himself in time to not fall helm first into the dark tunnel beneath. “A trap door,” said Bluestreak with a sigh of relief. He adjusted himself so that his peds would hit the floor first and jumped down into the passage below. It was a long fall, more like a slide. Down he went until the passage opened up and launched him into the air.

He landed in a tunnel that was covered in dull crystals in many different colors. Most of the crystals appeared to be shifting from their original colors to a dull pink or red color. Thankfully the annoying humming was gone.

Bluestreak looked between the two paths he had to choose from. To his right, the crystals looked like they were turning pink and red much faster than the ones on his left. He didn’t like the pinkish red crystals. They reminded him of spilt energon from mechs on the battle field.

“So, do I pick the creepy way,” he said shining his headlights to his left. “Or the really creepy way?” He swung back around to shine his headlights down the right tunnel. “It’s a tough call, because both are just so creepy. I mean, why should I have to choose between these two options. Obviously both are bad, but if I want to get out of here I have to pick one of them.”

There was a clatter to his left. Bluestreak whipped around. He was tense, ready for anything that could attack him. Out of the corner of his optic, he could have sworn he saw someone walk down that tunnel. “Hello,” he called cautiously. “Is someone lost down here?”

There wasn’t an answer. “Or if you’re not lost, do you know if you can help me. Please, I’m not sure how I got here. I’m looking for my mentor. He’s a Praxian, too. Oh, I guess I should tell you his name. He’s Prowl. You might have heard of him, he’s a famous tactician in the Autobot Army. Well, I guess the army has dispended since the war is over and all. Please, is someone there?”

No one answered, but if Bluestreak strained his audios, he could hear ped falls up ahead. “Can you not speak?” asked Bluestreak. Should he trust this mysterious being? Praxus should be empty. A bang was his only response. “Oh, I understand. I guess my headlights are a little bright for you too, huh?” Another bang.

“Will you lead me to the surface?”

No response.

“Can you at least lead me somewhere where I can get to the surface?”

There was another bang.

Bluestreak let out a vent he didn’t know he was holding. He wasn’t entirely sure he could trust the mysterious sounds he was hearing, but there didn’t seem to be any other options. Plus he really didn’t want to go down the really creepy tunnel to his right.

“Alright,” said Bluestreak. “I hope you know where you’re going.”

* * *

Bumblebee cautiously followed Prowl into the large open room. The main atrium of the temple was large with high ceilings. It reminded Bumblebee of the famous churches back on Earth. He’d been able to go into a few that had large enough doors.  

The walls were covered in more murals with crystals growing through the cracks. Small chambers that lead up

They were standing behind some sort of altar. Two oil candles were lit on a large table, a book between them. Bumblebee kept his gun trailed on the empty room.

“It doesn’t look like anyone is here,” said Bumblebee.

“No,” agreed Prowl. “It doesn’t.”

“Do you think we can risk going back out to search for Blue?” asked Bumblebee.

“I’m not sure if that would be a wise decision,” said Prowl.

“We don’t know if there are any more mechs like the one that greeted us when we arrived outside,” said Prowl.

“True,” said Bumblebee. “Do you think it was the one outside that made that loud banging noise?”

“I’m not sure,” said Prowl. “But someone is definitely here with us.”

“How do you figure?” asked Bumblebee.

“Those are oil based candles,” said Prowl. “The amount of oil in them is only good for a couple of joors at most. The way they are burning, they had to have been lit recently.”

“Frag,” swore Bumblebee. “Do you think they might be in one of the other towers?”

“It is the most likely scenario,” said Prowl.

“So, there’s likely a hostile in here with us and there is a very high probability, at least according to you, that there are more hostiles outside.  Did I miss anything?” asked Bumblebee.

“I don’t think so,” said Prowl in his deadpan voice.

“So what’s the plan sir?” asked Bumblebee.

“Ooh,” came a loud groan.

“We’ll need to search for a passage below the atrium,” said Prowl pointing his acid gun towards the moaning.

“What should I look for?” asked Bumblebee. His special operations skills were on high alert. He glanced around trying to see any imperfections in the walls surrounding them.

_Shick, bang, clang!_

A shadow flickered down the farthest staircase from them. Prowl had his gun up and ready. “It should be near the altar,” said Prowl. “If I remember correctly, there is usually a button that triggers the passage.”

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang!_

Bumblebee hurried over to the altar. He began feeling around the metal table. It felt solid, but when he knocked against it, he noticed a hollowed point.

“There’s more than one,” observed Prowl calmly.

“Do you think we can take them?” asked Bumblebee. He was ready for a fight.

“My calculations are producing unfavorable results,” said Prowl. A grey figure twitched into view. Prowl fired a shot. It hit the animated corpse in the shoulder. The metal sizzled and partially melted, but it didn’t stop the dead mech.

“What does this button usually look like?” asked Bumblebee.

“I have no idea,” admitted Prowl. “The priests were not inclined to divulge all of their secrets. That and they didn’t like the idea of a random Cybertronian wandering into their crypts.”

Bumblebee made a face as he continued tapping around the altar. “Crypts!?”

“I never choose to question the practice,” said Prowl. “Now, please, find the passageway. I only have so many bullets.”

“I really hope we aren’t jumping into the fire,” said Bumblebee as he stood up. The Earth saying coming easily to his stressed mind. He held onto the base of one of the oil candles while stepping back. His foot sunk down a couple of inches and the area of the altar Bumblebee had determined to be hollow pushed back to reveal a tightly wound spiral staircase. “Found it!”

“Good,” said Prowl.

Bumblebee quickly crouched down and scrambled into the hole.

Prowl fired off a few more rounds before following Bumblebee underneath the altar. He blindly felt around the ceiling until his hand found another button to close the entrance. The two mechs descended the spiral staircase, being careful not to trip.

As soon as they hit the bottom, they flicked on their headlights. The light illuminated a round room with four passage ways branching away. A large statue of a Praxian holding a blue crystal in his servo stood in front of the largest passageway. Bumblebee kept his gun trailed on the statue, just in case it decided to start showing signs of movement.

“So Prowl,” said Bumblebee. “Dumb question, but how did the Praxian priests get a dead mech’s frame down that staircase?”

“I have no idea,” said Prowl flexing his doorwings. He needed as much sensory input as possible to make sure they weren’t caught by surprise. “If we find a priest wandering down here, you can ask them.”

Bumblebee glanced at Prowl. “That’s not funny,” he said. “What’s with tall, dark, and creepy.” He gestured towards the statue.

“That is the Praxian Avatar of Death,” said Prowl. “He leads those who have died back to the Matrix. The lantern he carries provides a beacon for lost sparks. Those who hide from his presence become trapped between the worlds and eventually are doomed to the pits.”

“Of course,” said Bumblebee, maybe a little more sarcastically than was necessary. “Crypts should always be guarded by an Avatar of Death.”

Prowl ignored Bumblebee’s snarky remark. He needed to figure out the next best move. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought that the city was trying to draw them in, but to what, he wasn’t sure. It was a game, a sick game, a game with an unseen opponent. Why couldn’t the darkness that plagued this city just die already? Everything else had died, except for him, Bluestreak, and Smokescreen. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Barricade was also still alive, but that didn’t mean much. It was unlikely he would ever again live outside of a prison cell.

“Prowl? Come on Prowl. You didn’t glitch on me did you? Ratchet will be pissed if he has to drag your sorry aft out from here to fix you.”

It took Prowl a moment to realize that Bumblebee was trying to get his attention. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had “spaced out” as Jazz so eloquently liked put it. He turned to face Bumblebee’s concerned face. “I was merely planning our next best option,” said Prowl.

“Oh, well,” said Bumblebee shifting from one ped to the next. He was relieved that Prowl hadn’t glitched on him. “Have you thought about where we should head to now?”

Prowl quickly rechecked the calculations he had been making in the back of his mind while his thoughts had been elsewhere. “There is a draft through the largest passage. It is likely that it will lead us back to the surface. We can attempt to send a distress signal from there.”

“What are the odds we’ll run into any more grey mechs?” asked Bumblebee, all his earlier playfulness was gone.

“Too high for comfort,” said Prowl. “We will just have to deal with them as they come.”

“And the odds of Bluestreak being at the end of this tunnel?” asked Bumblebee with a grain of hope in his voice.

Prowl felt a strange sensation in his spark. He felt a mix of deep sadness, but also acceptance. His processor said the odds were too low for them to find Bluestreak in the tunnels, but his spark didn’t seem to agree.

“Let’s focus on getting above ground,” said Prowl. “These tunnels aren’t the most stable.”

They walked pasted the Avatar of Death and into the large tunnel.

* * *

It had been a long time since he had seen his home city. It was just a stinking shell of what it had once been. Hardly the magnificent beauty before the seekers had dropped their bombs, before the death squads had marched in and massacred every living creature. Praxus was as dead as it can get. It was a city just for the dead.

Barricade threw back his helm and laughed. Wasn’t it amazing! Now the top layer of Praxus matched what had always lurked beneath it. It was a dark, dead place full of dark and dead beings. It was absolutely glorious!

“Hello Praxus,” said Barricade with a twisted smile. “I’ve finally come back. Are you ready to finish what we started?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have a good night. :)


	9. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus has a vision of the darkness coming from Praxus. Prowl and Bumblebee have a run in with more zombie bots. Bluestreak finds himself in a terrifying situation.

Optimus Prime sat perfectly still before a small alter lit with small crystals and oil lanterns. He was deep within himself, drawing on the ancient wisdom that had been given to him in the form of the Matrix of Leadership. It was a rare moment of peace for the Prime.

If only the visions he was seeing were so peaceful.

While in his meditative state, Optimus Prime had learned to detach himself from all feeling. The Matrix held all kinds of knowledge, good and bad. The first time the Matrix had shown Optimus one of its more disturbing pieces of information, he had snapped out of his meditation and purged all over the attending priests. It’s wasn’t the last time Optimus had had to confront this kind of vision and he doubted it would be the last.

_A room filled with glowing blue crystals that were quickly dissolving to crimson red. Mechs, grey as death, jerkily walking towards a black and white doorwinged mech shooting at them, the shots doing nothing to slow the approaching mechs down. A mech carrying another down a dark corridor melted into the shadow of a seeker hunched over. Finally a silver and blue Praxian appeared. He looked sad and whispered, “it is starting.”_

Optimus jerked back to himself. “It is starting,” he muttered to himself, echoing the words of the silver and blue Praxian.

There was a sharp knock on the door, pulling Optimus from his final thoughts. No one was supposed to disturb him while he was meditating. It threw off his ability to interpret his visions. There might be pieces missing or new information could cause a bias to his thoughts. Only if there was a major emergency, was someone allowed to interrupt him.

There was another knock, this time a little more forceful. Optimus sent a command to the door to open. He stood up from his kneeling position.

Jazz and Smokescreen entered the chamber. Smokescreen looked down right scandalized. Jazz, as usual, seemed unfazed that he was disrupting the Prime.

“Sorry boss-bot,” said Jazz, “but we have a situation.”

“Has Barricade escaped from his prison?” asked Optimus.

“That’s putting it mildly,” said Smokescreen. Though Smokescreen had never interrupted his Prime during a meditation before, he had seen the aftermath often enough. As Optimus’ unofficial spy among his own troops, Smokescreen often reported to him after meditating. Smokescreen was used to Optimus being early perceptive afterwards.

“It was a slaughter,” said Jazz. “13 mechs are dead. It’ll take a while before that cell block will be able to hold anyone again.”

“We don’t know how he did it either,” said Smokescreen.  “Frankly, sir, not even Jazz can pull off the slag I just saw in the amount of time the tapes suggest. It was almost supernatural.”

“Yeah, the Winchester brothers might have known how he did it,” said Jazz rubbing his chin.

Smokescreen threw Jazz a confused look. “They’re from a popular Earth show several decades ago,” said Optimus for clarification.

“Oh,” said Smokescreen.

“Anyway, Prime,” said Jazz getting serious again. “Soundwave, has started tracking Barricade’s movements since he busted out. Guess where he’s headed.”

“Praxus,” said Optimus.

“Bingo,” said Jazz. “Blaster has been trying to hail Prowl and Bumblebee for joors now without any luck. Bluestreak is still presumed missing in that area and get this, Thundercracker was last seen flying towards Praxus too. No one has heard from him either in a couple of orns.”

“Praxus seems to be a major hot spot for disappearing mechs,” said Smokescreen.

Optimus thought back to his vision. _It is starting._ He felt a shiver run up his back.

“OP, are you alright?” asked Jazz. Optimus cursed Jazz’s unique observation skills.

“My visions were not the most comforting this orn,” admitted the Prime.

“Would you like to talk about it?” asked Smokescreen seamlessly slipping in to his counselor mode.

“No,” said Optimus. “I know it was a warning, but I wasn’t sure about what until your arrival.”

“Then you won’t deny me permission to lead a group of mechs to check out what’s going on in Praxus?” asked Jazz.

“The city isn’t stable enough yet,” said Optimus. “But if Prowl and Bumblebee aren’t responding to their comms then something must have happened to them.”

“What if we set up camp on the outskirts of the city?” asked Jazz. “I’ll go in and scout around-”

“We can’t risk losing you to the city as well. You may set up an outpost outside of Praxus, but try to reach Prowl first before going in,” said Optimus.

“Agreed,” said Jazz. “I’m requesting a team with Blaster, Hound, Soundwave, Skywarp, and Smokescreen.”

“Why am I going?” asked Smokescreen.

“Because you’ve already seen what Barricade is capable of,” said Jazz. “Nothing else will come as much of a shock to you.” Smokescreen glared at Jazz.

“You have my permission to go Jazz,” said Optimus. “Please bring our mechs home.”

“I’ll do my best OP,” said Jazz with a lazy salute.

“I guess I’m heading home,” said Smokescreen.

* * *

Bumblebee glanced over his shoulder to take a quick peek at Prowl. The tactician had suggested that Bumblebee take the lead, while Prowl used his doorwings to sense anything that might try to sneak up on them. So far they had been lucky and no one (dead or alive) was following them.

Prowl seemed more uptight than usual. It was obvious to Bumblebee that Prowl wasn’t doing well since their encounter with the grey mech. His doorwings were held at an angle that he knew, from vorns of living around Bluestreak and Smokescreen, was painful. His optics were dull and Prowl clearly wasn’t as focused as he was normally famous for.

“Is the tunnel stable up ahead?” Prowl asked breaking the tense silence.

Bumblebee placed his servos on the tunnel wall. One of the very few things he had learned about minibots was that they were able to detect the structure of small spaces using their servos. Brawn and Huffer had made sure Bumblebee learned the technique. It was one of Bumblebee’s key assets as a Special Operations Operative and one Jazz loved for when he needed a scout in a tight spot. It had been especially useful in the Decepitcon bases’ vents.

 “The tunnel is stable, but I think we might have a problem up a head,” said Bumblebee.

“One of the grey mechs?” asked Prowl.

“No,” said Bumblebee. “It feels like part of the tunnel either collapsed or gets really narrow. It’s perfectly stable, but we might have to find an alternative route if the gap is too small.” Well, he might fit through the gap, but Prowl’s doorwings might not.

Prowl let out a soft sigh. “It was a high possibility that we’d run into something like that,” he admitted.

“What are the odds that we’ll be able to escape through another tunnel?” asked Bumblebee.

“Low,” said Prowl, emotionless as ever. “All of my sensors indicate that the air currents are coming from this direction.”

“Joys,” said Bumblebee.

They pressed on. Bumblebee wasn’t a very religious mech, but he did send a quick prayer to Primus asking that Bluestreak was still safe and that he and Prowl would find a way out of these tunnels. He continued to take a few glances over his shoulder to check on Prowl. His superior was acting stranger than usual. Bumblebee hoped it was just worry for Bluestreak.

Prowl whipped around. “We have company coming.”

“The alive or dead kind?” asked Bumblebee.

“My sensors indicate they are walking around like the mech we found outside the temple,” said Prowl. “It is a higher likelihood it is one of the zombie mechs.”

There was a brief pause. It felt as if some unseen force had frozen Bumblebee and Prowl. Bumblebee took in a vent of air and then another vent. The atemosphere was suddenly very thick.

“How many?” Bumblebee finally breathed out.

“Enough to pose a serious problem,” said Prowl.

They both took another vent. Bumblebee could hear the soft scrape of metal against metal.

“We need to keep going,” said Prowl.

“And if the gap isn’t wide enough?” asked Bumblebee. Prowl met his optics, but said nothing. He didn’t need to. Bumblebee gave Prowl a sharp nod.

Swiftly, Bumblebee turned and stated running as fast as he could down the tunnel passage, Prowl not far behind him. He held his gun at the ready. Maybe it wasn’t a gap in the tunnel, maybe it was a door. Bumblebee needed to hold onto something positive, even if it was a fool’s hope.

“They are gaining on us,” said Prowl.

“How?” asked Bumblebee. “The one we saw outside the temple could barely walk!”

“We’ll find out when they catch up to us,” said Prowl. Bumblebee was starting to get really annoyed with his commander’s sarcasm during dire situations.

They continued running as the passageway narrowed. Their pursuers were still gaining on them. Bumblebee’s headlights illuminated a very small gap that might lead to an escape. He hit the side of the wall with his servo just to see if they were about to run into a dead end. The feedback he received was better than he had hoped.

“Prowl, we’re about to hit the small gap,” said Bumblebee between vents. “I think there’s a larger chamber on the other side. If we can squeeze through, we might be able to lose them!”

“Good,” was all Prowl said.

The scraping sounds were getting closer. It sounded as though a whole army were after them. Bumblebee didn’t want to think about what an army of undead mechs looked like. The gap was getting closer.

Bumblebee nearly ran into the wall. He slid to a stop and flung out an arm to keep his balance. “I found the gap,” said Bumblebee.

“And they’ve caught up to us,” said Prowl. He had stopped a little farther up the passageway, blocking Bumblebee’s view. He shot off two rounds from his acid gun.  

“Prowl,” Bumblebee started, but Prowl interrupted.

“Keep going.”

“But!”

“That’s an order soldier!” snapped Prowl.

Bumblebee was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t leave Prowl to these creepy mechs.  They needed to stick together. They needed to fight together.

Prowl sighed. “Bumblebee, I can’t buy you that much more time. Please, find Bluestreak and get back to Iacon. The Prime must hear about this.”

Prowl’s speech was enough to snap him back to reality. He had survived the great Cybertronian war. This wasn’t the first time he had been ordered to leave someone behind. Though usually he ignored those orders and found a way to save his captured comrades.

But this time was different. This time it was Prowl giving him the order and when Prowl gave an order, you did as you were told. You just had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

“I will sir,” said Bumblebee.

Bumblebee pushed himself through the gap and turned off his headlights. He might be leaving Prowl behind, but he wasn’t going to just run off as his commander took his last stand. Prowl fired off more rounds from his acid gun. Bumblebee couldn’t see if he was taking out any of the targets or not.

_Click, click, click._

Prowl tossed his gun to the side. He must have run out of ammo. He grabbed a small blade from his subspace, smaller than a sword, but larger than a knife, and took a defensive stance. Bumblebee watched in awe as Prowl dismembered the first walking corpse that got too close.

Prowl was able to take off the head off of a second walking corpse, when a third managed to grab one of his doorwings. Suddenly Prowl was falling. Bumblebee had a hard time following his commander’s movements as Prowl’s headlights were now facing the ground. It seemed as though the grey mechs were piling on top of Prowl, forcing him into submission.

_Crack!_

Prowl let out a low groan and his headlights flickered out. Bumblebee was completely blind now without light. He placed a servo to the wall and turned the audio settings up to their most sensitive. Something, _or someone,_ large was being dragged back towards the temple Bumblebee and Prowl had just run from.

Bumblebee stayed rooted to his spot until he could hear nothing but silence. It took him a few kliks to realize that he had started shaking. He leaned against the wall and pulled in a couple of deep vents. They hadn’t come after him. They had taken Prowl, but had left him alone.

Maybe they couldn’t follow him through the gap. Maybe they didn’t know the gap was here. Maybe they just wanted Prowl.

Bumblebee had a hard time calming himself down. He slid down the wall and into a seated position. He felt moisture around his optics. How was it that he could face down a crazed Decepticon killer, but the thought of corpses attacking him made him feel like a young rookie out on his first mission all over again?

He needed to keep it together.

The dead mechs hadn’t killed Prowl. They had just knocked him out. He wasn’t going to leave Prowl with those mechs. He would find him and Bluestreak. They were all going to get out of here, together.

* * *

Bluestreak stumbled over the uneven ground again. It was hard to keep his peds under him even with his headlights illuminating his path. There was just too much debris in the tunnel.

“Do you think it’ll be much further?” Bluestreak asked his mysterious guide. Not once had he seen the mech who was supposedly guiding him to safety. He felt another shiver go up his spine. He mustn’t think too hard about it. At least someone was willing to help him.

_Bang!_

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Bluestreak. “Or at least I really hope it’s not too much further. I’d really like to get above ground. The floor here is really bad and I’m worried I’ll break something if I keep tripping over everything. I’m usually very well balanced, but my doorwings feel funny. I think it was those weird pulsing crystals. I’ve never felt crystals hum like that. They’re usually quite pleasant to sit next to. Crystal music is really nice. Do you like crystal music?”

_Bang! Bang!_

“I think that means “no” right?” continued Bluestreak. “That’s a shame. I love it, or at least I did. I don’t have enough crystals on Earth to really hear their music. It’s one thing I really do miss from before the war…”

Bluestreak trailed off. He shouldn’t think about before the war. It hurt to think about his family, about everything he had lost. He remembered that it had started out as a normal day. He had been playing in the front room of the townhouse he had lived in when his sire had sat straight up. His sire had told his carrier to hide him in a small crawl space under the staircase. It had been a very small space and he had hurt his doorwings when his carrier had pushed him in.

He remembered as the front door of their house had banged open. He remembered hearing screams from outside and loud engines. The mechs who had barged into their home had laughed as they dragged his carrier and sire in front of their leader. There had been a lot of yelling. Bluestreak never really remembered what was said, but he remembered the mocking tone of the lead seeker, his parent’s calm voices, and the voice of a young scared mech. Finally there were two small pops, like when his sire uncorked a fine bottle of high grade.

_Bang!_

Bluestreak jerked his helm up. He hadn’t realized he had stopped walking. “Sorry,” he said. He took a deep vent of air.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I really need to get out of here. This place brings back too many memories.”

Bluestreak started walking again. “I’m hoping to start making new memories though,” he continued. “Happy memories. Sure, there were some good times during the war, but it was still a war. A lot of my friends died. I guess I was lucky to have lived, but some days it doesn’t feel like it. I like Earth though. It’s colorful and full of life. I like the humans and the birds and the trees. I even like the dessert even if I do get sand everywhere. Have you been anywhere like that?”

_Bang! Bang!_

“Oh, yeah, you’ve been stuck here on Cybertron,” said Bluestreak. “I guess you don’t have places like that here. At least I don’t remember Cybertron having places like that.”

The mysterious mech didn’t bother to respond to Bluestreak. It was silent for a few breems, until Bluestreak spotted something. He clicked off his headlights.

“Oh!” Bluestreak gasped. “A light!”

From the ceiling, Bluestreak was able to see light pouring into the tunnel. The hole wasn’t that high off the ground and there was plenty of debris for him to climb up to it. Bluestreak could taste his freedom.

“Thank you so much for helping me!” he called to the mysterious mech. He waited a beat and then added. “Would it be possible for me to see you before I go? You know, so I can thank you properly?”

_Bang! Bang!_

“Oh, I get it,” said Bluestreak. “You don’t like the light, that’s right. Well, thank you again. I’ll make sure someone leaves you some supplies when they come pick me up.”

_Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Bluestreak was confused. The mysterious mech had never banged that many times before without pausing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is this spot not stable enough for me to climb? Should I wait for another hole? What if we don’t find another one?”

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

“I promise I’ll leave you supplies if that’s what you need,” said Bluestreak. He had reached the base of the debris pile and was ready to start climbing. “You know you can always come with me, like meet up with me when it gets dark outside or something. Optimus Prime is back and he’s going to lead us into a new era. Well, that’s what Ultra Magnus keeps telling us.”

_Bang!_

Bluestreak started to climb. He kept talking and the mysterious mech continued banging. Bluestreak didn’t understand what was wrong. Hadn’t the mysterious mech been trying to lead him to safety? Sure he hadn’t seen the mech, but he had seemed friendly enough, even if he only communicated by banging.

“You can get food and shelter if you come back with me to Iacon,” said Bluestreak as he climbed higher. “They’ve already rebuilt a lot of the city. I’ve seen pictures. It looks beautiful.”

Bluestreak was getting closer to the top of the debris pile. The hole to the outside world was only a few meters away. He was almost free.

The mysterious mech continued to bang against the tunnel wall.

“Seriously, you can start a new life now,” said Bluestreak.

Just as he reached the hole, the banging stopped. Bluestreak pulled himself through the hole and turned to look back into the dark tunnel. He flared out his doorwings and strained his optics trying to spot his savior. He couldn’t see anyone.

“Thank you again!” called Bluestreak. “Even if I never saw you, or know your name.”

He tried spotting the mysterious mech again, but there was no one near the hole in the tunnel. “Maybe it was a ghost,” said Bluestreak to himself. He shook his helm. “That’s silly, ghosts don’t exist. Maybe I was just following some sound and thought it was a mech. That’s it! The banging was a coincidence. There aren’t any mechs except for me around here.”

“Are you so sure about that?”

Bluestreak whipped around, but before he could catch a glimpse of the mech who had just spoken, he was hit hard. Bluestreak felt himself falling down. He hit the ground hard and his vision swam. A large dark ped walked up to him.

“Poor little mech,” said the deep voice. “So close to freedom, only to run into me. The Unmaker will be pleased to have you join us.”

Another sharp hit to his helm, and Bluestreak blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost Halloween everyone. Please enjoy this latest chapter.
> 
> Pleasant dreams. :)


	10. Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thundercracker remembers his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first chapter that is slightly different from the original version that I posted. Technically I wrote the chapter like this first and then cut down on some of the content to keep the rating I had.

“Wait for me!”

Thundercracker laughed as he chased after his older brother. Their carrier had brought them to a small park near their home in the southwestern district of Praxus. It was close to the Vos boarder, and provided an opportunity for Thundercracker to interact with other seekers. Today though, the park was empty except for their small family.

Grayscale had run behind some of the play equipment. Thundercracker tried to keep up, but he was still a lot smaller than the lanky Praxian. “Grayscale!” he called as he turned another corner.

His brother must have run ahead because he wasn’t behind the play equipment anymore. Thundercracker stomped his tiny ped and pouted. Grayscale always ran ahead of him and never let him catch up. It wasn’t fair. Their sire liked to say that one day Thundercracker would be a lot bigger than Grayscale since he was a seeker, but he still hated being so tiny now.

“Little mech,” sang a voice.

Thundercracker twitched his wings and looked over to where the voice was coming from. A mech with red and blue plating stood behind a large crystal bush. He was waving at Thundercracker, asking him to come closer.

“Little mech,” said the voice in the same sing song fashion. “Won’t you come here? I have something to show you.”

There was something off about this mech.  Thundercracker knew that red and blue were the colors of Primus, but the colors on the mysterious mech’s plating seemed different somehow. Thundercracker’s wings twitched again.

“Come here little mech,” said the mech as sweet as an energon treat. “Would you like to see the rarest crystals in all of Cybertron? Of course you do. These are very special crystals. They are the most beautiful red color you will ever see. Come over here little mech.”

Thundercracker didn’t realize he had started shaking his helm. This mech was creepy and his parents had always warned him to not go off strangers.

“Come with me little one,” said the creepy mech. He took a step closer to Thundercracker.

Thundercracker didn’t wait for the mech to take a second step. He turned quickly and bolted away from the mech. As he rounded the play set a huge cloud of dust whipped up and blinded him for a moment.

When he was able to clear his vision he was face to face with a small grey Praxian. He leveled a large riffle at him.

“Seeker scum,” he yelled and just as the Praxian pulled the trigger Thundercracker felt another mech wrap his servos around him. There was a small pop and Thundercracker felt himself being pulled into one of Skywarp’s teleportations.

He landed in a crystal garden. It was beautiful and the crystals sang with joy at his arrival. There were so many colors. He looked behind him and saw his family sitting on one of the picnic benches in the center of the gardens. Blue crystals surrounded them. Thundercracker started towards them, but was stopped by a small laugh.

“Silly seeker,” said a small grey Praxian. He looked strikingly similar to the Autobot sniper. “You can’t be with them anymore. You belong in the deepest of the pits.”

Thundercracker slowly started backing away from the laughing grey Praxian. As he did, he saw the crystals start to change from their beautiful colors to a deep dark, crimson red. The color spread like an evil infection.

Thundercracker tried to run, but the red crystals spread their disease so much faster. The joyful song the crystals had been singing before changed to an awful humming noise that beat against his wings. In kliks the red crystals engulfed his family, causing them to scream in agony. Thundercracker closed his optics.

When he opened his optics, he was on the battle field. Starscream was crouched down at his left. “Slagging Autobots,” snarled his air commander. “How the frag did they find a way to knock us out of the sky”

Skywarp took that moment to materialize next to Starscream. “That fragging inventor is becoming a bigger pain in the aft than those twins.”

“No one is a bigger pain than the twins,” said Thundercracker in a slight daze.

Skywarp turned towards his blue wing mate. “TC, are you still dazed from the fall?” he asked.

Starscream paused and looked over at Thundercracker. “Get your helm together,” snapped the air commander. “We’re not leaving you behind and you know how Megatron gets about fallen comrades.”

“Frag Megatron!” snarled Skywarp. “Don’t worry TC, we won’t leave you behind.”

There was another blast and Thundercracker felt himself falling backward. His wings hit soft mesh padding. A mech’s faceplates filled his vision.

“Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?”

He knew that voice. It had been a very long time since he had heard it, but he could recognize his carrier’s voice anywhere. “What happened?” Thundercracker asked.

“You fell and dislocated a wing,” came the voice of his sire. “The doctor said the shock knocked you right out.”

“Oh,” said Thundercracker. He was too numb to really feel his frame, but his sire and carrier wouldn’t lie to him. “Where’s Grayscale?”

“Sleeping,” said his carrier. “What made you try jumping out of the second floor window like that?”

“I wanted to fly,” said Thundercracker. It was the most obvious answer. He was a seeker. Seekers needed to fly.

“Don’t worry son,” said his sire. “You’ll be able to fly soon, but not now.”

“Rest now, but not too long. You’re needed,” said his carrier.

Thundercracker smiled. He was warm and cozy. He allowed his optics to slide shut again.

“I said kneel!”

_No, it couldn’t possibly be that mech. He’d been dead for vorns._ Thundercracker opened his optics. The room he was in was small. Two Praxians knelt in front of him, their servos behind their helms.

“Now, now, cadet,” said the smooth voice of Air Commander Vox. “It’s a very simple act. You just level your blaster and squeeze the trigger.” Vox demonstrated the movement with his blaster against the helm of one of the shaking Praxians.

Thundercracker felt like he was screaming, but no sound came out of his mouth. The two Praxians tried to act calm, but their shaking gave away their fear.

“Drag him over here,” snarled Vox. He was a large cruel seeker, who delighted in the orders Lord Megatron gave him.

Two sets of servos grabbed his upper arms and dragged him to stand behind the two Praxians. “I told you, Thundercracker, that you needed to embrace your seeker self. You need to erase your Praxian heritage,” said Vox in his ear.

Vox took Thundercracker’s servo and shoved the blaster at him. He then forced Thundercracker to level the weapon at the light purple Praxian’s helm.

There was a small pop and the purple mech fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. The very light blue, almost grey mech shuttered.

“See,” said Vox. “Was that so hard?”

Tears blurred Thundercracker’s vision. He could barely keep hold of the blaster.

Vox smacked him. “Seekers don’t cry,” snarled Vox. “Finish your job Thundercracker! He’s a dead mech anyway, now that you killed his bonded! Better to give him the merciful death that he needs.”

Thundercracker felt frozen to the spot. He couldn’t do this. It was wrong. But Vox was right about one thing, the other mech did not have much longer to live.

“It’s alright TC,” said the kneeling mech. “It’s alright.”

From within Thundercracker’s spark, he felt an embrace of love, sadness, and forgiveness. With a shaking servo, Thundercracker raised the blaster to the back of the Praxian’s helm. He swallowed hard and gently squeezed the trigger.

Thundercracker was alone. His spark was empty. All of the love he had felt moments ago was gone. Vox was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear anything. A blinding rage filled Thundercracker. Fast as lightening, Thundercracker raised the blaster for a third time and shot Vox right between the optics.

Before the other two seekers could react, he shot them as well. Thundercracker fell to the ground. Five cold bodies rested around him. He let out an anguished cry of pain and grief.

The room was spinning. Flashes of color filled Thundercracker’s vision. He couldn’t think straight. He wanted to forget. Starscream and Skywarp were there for a second, offering him comfort and support. Then a young grey mechling stared at him with accusing optics, demanding answers that Thundercracker couldn’t give.  Then he saw his brother with cold dead optics whispering to him.

“I forgave you a long time ago, brother,” whispered the dead mech. “You need to wake up. These are just nightmares. Please stop torturing yourself.”

Thundercracker awoke to darkness. It was difficult for him to tell that he was actually awake and not still dreaming. Perhaps his entire existence was a dream.

Sitting up, Thundercracker felt a brief flash of pain from his wings. He must be awake if he could feel physical pain. His processor felt heavy and it took him a moment for everything to come back to him. Yet something still felt wrong about his situation.

Thundercracker pulled out a cube of energon from his subspace. He silently thanked Gunner again for the supplies and took a long drink. It was then he realized what was wrong. He was alone, completely and utterly alone.

“Little one?” Thundercracker asked. He started patting the area around him in search of the sparkling he had found in his brother’s townhouse, the sparkling that looked so strikingly familiar. “Where did you go?”

He was growing worried. They were high up off the ground. Way too high for a sparkling to climb down, but the young one was most certainly not in the alcove with him. Thundercracker quickly subspaced the remainder of his energon cube and started climbing down. His mind was supplying with all sorts of horrific scenarios.

Quickly, Thundercracker found himself on the ground floor. There was nothing on the ground. “Little one!” Thundercracker called out again. The sparkling had never given him a name and Thundercracker had never bothered to call him anything other than “sparkling”.

“We can’t play hide and seek little one!” Thundercracker yelled again. “It’s too dangerous.”

He remembered the creepy red and blue mech from his dream, the one who had looked similar to Optimus Prime, but different. That mech had been a product of his imagination, he had to have been. There was no way that a mech who had the reverse colors of Optimus Prime was out and about looking for a tiny grey sparkling. He wasn’t even sure why his processor was jumping to these conclusions.

In a blind panic, Thundercracker stated crawling around on the dark floor. He could barely see and he wasn’t able to feel anything on the ground. Where had the little sparkling gone? He couldn’t have just disappeared!

His wings twitched. There was a slight shift in the still air. Was it another of the grey mechs coming for him? He took a couple of deep vents to try to calm his nerves. He pulled out his blaster from subspace. There was a bright light in his peripheral vision.

Thundercracker easily shifted into a defensive stance. He tried to shield his optics from the bright light, but he had been in the dark too long and was blinded. His finger flew to the trigger on the blaster.

“Woah, woah, I’m not here to hurt you,” said a voice within the bright light. Thundercracker froze and slowly lowered his blaster.

The lights dulled a bit and Thundercracker reset his optics. It was a little difficult, but eventually the image of a small yellow mech came into focus. He was familiar.

“Thundercracker right?” asked the yellow mech.

“Yeah,” said Thundercracker. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Bumblebee,” said the yellow mech. “We were on Earth together during the war, though not exactly on the same side…”

“Yes, I remember,” said Thundercracker. He had been a bit of a nuisance, especially with his human friends. “One of Prime’s scouts. What are you doing here?”

Bumblebee nodded. “I’m here looking for my friend Bluestreak along with Commander Prowl.”

“Prowl is here with you?” asked Thundercracker.

“He was,” said Bumblebee. “But, now I don’t want to alarm you, but these grey mechs took him. I don’t know where, but I know he is still alive.”

Thundercracker swallowed thickly. “You need to get out of here. I assume you have a ship that you can use for escape.”

“I’m not leaving without Prowl and Bluestreak,” snapped Bumblebee.

Silence stretched between them.

“I understand,” said Thundercracker. “I’d do the same for Skywarp and Soundwave, possibly Starscream, but that would depend on how badly he’s pissed me off that day.”

It was a weak joke, but Bumblebee let out a soft chuckle. “I’m glad you understand,” he said.

“On a different note,” said Thundercracker. “Have you by any chance come across a small grey sparkling? He has a Praxian build.”

Bumblebee shook his head. “You’re the first mech I’ve seen since Prowl was dragged away,” he said. “What’s a sparkling doing down here?”

“I found him,” said Thundercracker. “In one of the destroyed buildings.” He couldn’t bring himself to admit he had gone to his brother’s old home. “I had us hiding in one of the alcoves up there.” He pointed up the wall. “I fell into recharge and when I woke up, he was gone. I was worried something had happened to him.”

“Thundercracker,” said Bumblebee slowly. “There’s no way a sparkling could have survived a fall like that, let alone climb down from there. Are you sure you didn’t imagine it? There has been a lot of weird slag going on.”

“No, he was real,” said Thundercracker. “He had to have been.”

Yet the more Thundercracker thought about it, the more he realized how absurd he sounded.  There was no way a sparkling could have survived in this city without anyone else around. Not only were the dead grey mechs around, but the lack of resources would have killed the little one long ago. Then there was also the fact that he had looked so achingly familiar.

Bumblebee hit the ground with his servo. He then checked the area with his headlights. “Thundercracker,” he said. “There’s no sign of anyone but you and me.”

Thundercracker rubbed the side of his helm. “Maybe I did imagine it,” he said. “I never should have come back.”

“Why did you?” asked Bumblebee. Thundercracker was obviously stressed and Bumblebee wouldn’t be able to find Prowl or Bluestreak without first calming the seeker down.

Thundercracker bit his lip. Could he tell Bumblebee the real reason he had returned or would he think he was crazy? Well zombies were apparently real, so why not ghosts as well?

“I had a dream,” said Thundercracker slowly, “where a mech asked me to come back.”

“A dream?” asked Bumblebee.

“I know it sounds crazy,” admitted Thundercracker. “But it made sense at the time.”

Bumblebee nodded. “Needed some sort of closure before we start rebuilding?”

“Atonement,” said Thundercracker. “I grew up in Praxus. It was my home.”

“And yet it was the Decepticons who destroyed it,” said Bumblebee.

Thundercracker shuttered. “I’ve regretted my actions every orn since, so has Starscream. And if you’re wondering about Skywarp, he wasn’t here that day. He was too young to fight back then.”

“A child of war,” said Bumblebee. “I’ve known more than one.”

“If I remember right, you are one as well,” said Thundercracker.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bumblebee defensively.

“Maybe it was a different yellow minibot sparkling and grey Praxian youngling that Soundwave found in a crashed ship,” said Thundercracker. “My mind has been playing a lot of tricks on me lately.”

 Now that Thundercracker had calmed down, Bumblebee was ready to continue his search. He quickly scanned the seeker for any signs of injury. “Are your wings the only things that are damaged?” he asked.

“Yeah, I can’t fly,” admitted Thundercracker.

“Any ideas as to where to go right now?”

_Bang!_

“What was that?” asked both mechs at the same time. Their optics met.

_Bang!_

Thundercracker felt something stir in his spark, feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Hello?” called Bumblebee. “Is someone there?”

_Bang! Bang!_

“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” said Bumblebee. “Can you tell us who you are?”

The feeling of love and sadness grew in Thundercracker’s spark. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore. His brother was dead and only ever visited him in his dreams.

_Bang!_

“Can you at least come here?” asked Bumblebee.

_Bang!_

“He can’t,” said Thundercracker.

“Excuse me?” said Bumblebee.

“He can’t come here,” said Thundercracker.

_Bang! Bang!_

“Can you lead us to where we need to go?” asked Thundercracker. The emotions flooding his spark were answer enough. He was overwhelmed with his own sadness.

_Bang! Bang!_

Thundercracker started walking towards the source of the banging.

“What are you doing?” asked Bumblebee. “That could be one of the grey mechs!”

“He’s not one of them,” said Thundercracker. “He’s a ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, when I first wrote this chapter, I burst into tears. I don't know if I managed to do that for anyone else, but it was a tough chapter to write (especially that scene that I initially left out). It's not much, but it might answer a few questions. I hope y'all didn't mind the changes. Let me know what you think and I hope y'all sleep well.
> 
> Have a good night...


	11. Bound Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl is reunited with Bluestreak and is confronted by Barricade. The ritual is fast approaching. Will Bumblebee and Thundercracker rescue them in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also slightly different from the original post. I hope you enjoy it, but I should warn you guys, there are some upcoming scenes features torture (physical and a little psychological).

Prowl was conscious, but he couldn’t move. The reanimated mechs who held him had managed to paralyze him somehow. Perhaps they were sentient, or perhaps their puppet master knew Prowl’s weakest points. They had been dragging Prowl for quite a while now and he had no idea where he was, but he could guess.

Despite being underground, Prowl’s unique processor had been calculating his location since he and Bumblebee had descended into the depths of Praxus. He knew his likely destination and it filled him with dread.

The Northern Temple of Praxus held nothing but bad memories.

The reanimated mechs continued their underground trek. It was dark, with a few patches of light shining through cracks in the ceiling. The dark cycle was fast approaching. Prowl’s optics provided some illumination, but not much. There was also an odd glow in the far distance, but then again, his processor might have been playing tricks on him.

Onwards they went. Prowl’s peds dragged across the uneven ground. He tried to focus on his calculations and equations, but through the cool, calm logic, he was starting to feel a flicker of panic. Why was this happening now, right when they were about to start rebuilding? Megatron was gone, but what kind of evil had the mad mech attracted?

Prowl recalled when Megatron had first risen to power. He had been charismatic, rough, but not needlessly cruel outside of the gladiator arena. Prowl remembered a time when he had read some of the poetry and essays the Depeticon warlord had written, though it was many vorns before the tactician had known Megatron had written them. Megatron hadn’t been the psychotic dictator then.

What had changed?

Could Barricade have really lured Megatron into the servos of Unicron? Is that really what had happened? Or had the warlord always had those evil tendencies? Did contact with the crystals exaggerate traits that were already present?

Had the reanimated mechs also taken Bluestreak?

Prowl had a lot of question, ones that were unlikely to be ever answered. At least that was what his battle computer was telling him.

He was lost in his processor and barely taking in his surroundings anymore. He was starting to feel drowsy and there was a strange vibration in the air. Prowl didn’t notice when they stopped moving.

“Well, well, well,” chuckled a deep voice. “I had wondered if you were going to be joining us today. I do hope you are ready to finish what we started.”

Prowl lifted his gaze away from the ground, but could not see the speaker. It wasn’t a mystery as to who it was. Barricade’s voice had haunted his recharge cycles for many vorns, both the child that he had been and the monster he had become.

Barricade laughed. “Can you not see me Prowl? Does the darkness confuse you? I find that it’s a wonderful place to lurk.”

“Don’t forget that the darkness is always banished by light,” Prowl replied in a flat voice.

Barricade jumped down from his perch on the ceiling and landed in front of Prowl. Prowl could only track Barricade’s movements by his brilliant red optics. They were standing so close that their armor was lightly brushing up against each other.

Quick as lightening, Barricade grabbed Prowl’s chin and titled his helm to an uncomfortable angle. The reanimated mechs holding Prowl remained still as statues. Barricade searched Prowl’s optics for some unknown information.

“The Prime has healed you too well,” said Barricade. “But it wasn’t enough to completely cure you.” He caressed Prowl’s cheek in a mock show of affection.

“How are you here?” asked Prowl.

“So surprised?” mocked Barricade. “I would have thought you’d have liked my little art project? I wanted to impress that amazing processor of yours.”

Prowl had no idea what Barricade was talking about, but he wasn’t about to let the deranged mech know that. He stared at Barricade, hoping he would continue to gloat while he worked on a means of escape.

“You arrived early. I would have thought it would have taken you a few more orns. Ah well, you can keep the youngling company while we finish preparing.” Barricade gave Prowl a toothy smile. He had razor sharp denta, filed to points.

Prowl’s processor froze. _Youngling! Did he mean Bluestreak?_

“What have you done with Bluestreak?” asked Prowl.

Barricade smiled. “He has been spirited away, like us.”

“That is not an answer,” said Prowl. Barricade’s hold on his chin was beginning to strain his neck cables.

“Don’t be so impatient, Prowl,” said Barricade slowly saying Prowls name, as though to a lover. “We have only just started getting reacquainted. I will take you to the mechling eventually.”

Barricade brought his face within millimeters of Prowl’s. His other servo started drifting up one of Prowl’s doorwings. “Now that our positions have been reversed, I am very tempted to see just how well your emotions have returned. I’m curious, you see, as to how well the Matrix heals a mech who was tainted by Unicron.”

“Perhaps, proximity to the Matrix might have helped heal you as well,” said Prowl.

Barricade snarled and dug his claws into the doorwing he was gripping. “I am what I was always meant to be, the herald of Unicron.”

“And here I was under the impression that that was Megatron’s job,” said Prowl.

Barricade threw back his helm, letting go of Prowl in the process, and laughed. “Megatron was meant as another offering. I tried to tempt him into the depths of Praxus, but he seemed more interested in destroying our cursed city. He was weak.”

“Or too headstrong for you to manipulate properly,” said Prowl. “It seems you are a poor herald.”

Smack!

Prowl’s helm had been whipped over his shoulder. Barricade heavily circulated air through his vents. They remained in silence for what felt like vorns, but was really only a couple of breems.

“Tell me Barricade, why did the ceremony fail the first time? Did our original host forget some minor detail?” asked Prowl. He knew he shouldn’t bait the deranged mech, but it was the one question about all this that still bothered him most. Why hadn’t Unicron been summoned all those vorns ago.

Barricade snorted. “You want a story time? Fine! That dead priest had just been repeating those same actions over and over again since he first became a ghost. We weren’t the first to be dragged down here. Where did you think all those old stories came from?”

 “And yet, you seem to think that this time will work,” said Prowl.

“Primus is weak Prowl, our war made sure that,” said Barricade. “Our benevolent god always made sure that the ceremony failed. Did you really think that you were able to escape all on your own? Now that Cybertron is in ruins and Primus their attention elsewhere, the ceremony can be complete. Unicron will be unstoppable.” Barricade paused for a klik.

“Huh, perhaps Megatron wasn’t as useless as I thought.”

As Barricade finished speaking another figured materialized out of the darkness. The mech’s colors were in the inverse of the colors Primus’ priests should have been in. He was blue where he should have been red and red where he should have been blue.

“Herald,” said the mech in voice that must not have spoken in an eon. “You have brought us the witness.”

“Of course I did,” snapped Barricade. “I have been far more productive than you ever were.”

“Arrogance is unbecoming of you,” said the ghost. “I’ve planned this day for eons and it seems that all my waiting was for not.”

Prowl watched the exchange with a blank look on his face, though his processor seemed to be working twice as hard as usual. If only he could move.

Barricade huffed in annoyance. “Whatever old mech,” he snarled.

“Optimus Prime knows I’m here,” said Prowl suddenly. He wasn’t sure why he was speaking, but as illogical as it was, it felt empowering to say. “He will come looking for me when I don’t check in.”

Barricade got very close to Prowl’s face again. “Let him come,” he said. “I always liked having an audience when I ripped out a spark.”

“Barricade!” snapped the ghost.

Barricade growled. “Why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying while we finish with the preparations? You always seemed to be a few steps ahead of everyone else. I really shouldn’t have been so surprised.”

Barricade snapped his fingers and the reanimated mechs dragged Prowl forward.

“I do not think it is wise to put them together,” said the ghost.

“Why?” asked Barricade. “Worried they’ll escape? Heh heh. Prowl might be brilliant, but even he has limits. Besides, family reunions are always so touching.”

Prowl glared at the ground in front of him. For once, his processor wasn’t coming up with any ideas on getting himself free. Perhaps when he saw Bluestreak he’d create a better plan.

Barricade turned on his headlights to provide some extra light. Prowl wasn’t sure if it was for Barricade’s benefit or not because the reanimated mechs didn’t seem to need it and he doubted Barricade wanted to give Prowl more information for him to plot an escape.

They arrived at a solid door. Out of the corner of his optic, Prowl watched as Barricade felt along the wall. It took the deranged mech a few kliks to find the mechanism to open the door. With a loud squeak, it swung open on rusty hinges. Prowl was dragged in to the dark room.

Bluestreak raised his helm up at the sudden source of light entering his prison. His optics were overly bright and his vents were working overtime. He tried to move closer to the entryway, but he was stopped by his bound servos held securely to a pole running from floor to ceiling. His doorwings were also chained securely to the wall behind him. He was stuck in a kneeling position.

“Bluestreak,” said Prowl softly, taking in all of the hurts the young mech that he had helped raised had obtained.

“Prowl?” said an uncertain Bluestreak, blinded by the headlights.

“Aw, so cute,” giggled Barricade. He followed Prowl and the reanimated mechs into the dark room. “See Prowl, he is safe and whole. I think the chains are a nice touch too. He just looks better all tied up.”

Barricade walked up to the younger Praxian and pinched his cheek. Bluestreak cried out in pain.

“Don’t touch me,” Bluestreak snapped.

“He’s older than the priest wanted, but who wants to wait around for a sparkling to show up when all the other conditions are prefect? Still he’ll make a pretty vassal for the Unmaker.” He let go of Bluestreak who leaned as far away as he could from the deranged mech.

“Frag you,” spat Bluestreak.

“Don’t tempt me,” said Barricade wiggling his servo at Bluestreak. He turned to look at where the reanimated mechs stood with Prowl. “Just drop him there.”

The reanimated mechs let go of Prowl. Prowl fell face first into the ground. Barricade sauntered over and grabbed Prowl by the back of his neck and lifted him up.

“Oh dear, here let me help you there,” said Barricade in a sickly sweet voice. His claws dug in to the back of Prowl’s helm. It hurt, but Prowl wasn’t about to let Barricade know that. The less information he gave now the more surprises he would have for later.

“Stop it!” yelled Bluestreak. He pulled at his bindings, but could not get any closer. “Stop it you fragger!”

“He’s a mouthy little mech,” said Barricade grabbing hold of one of Prowl’s arms with his other servo. “He certainly didn’t learn that language from you. I don’t think you even know how to curse.”

Barricade pulled on Prowl’s arm all the while Bluestreak screamed at him to stop. It was slow and agonizing. Prowl fought hard to swallow his own screams.

_Pop! Snap!_

“Gahaaaaahhhh!” Prowl lost the battle to stay silent.

Barricade chuckled close to his audio unit. “So much emotion,” he said in a mock soothing voice.  Prowl panted as he tried to process the pain he was feeling. Barricade had popped his arm out of his shoulder joint. A couple of cables sparked, sending smaller jolts of pain through Prowl.

“You sick fragger! I’m going to shoot you so many times; you won’t know how many bullets go through you!”

Bluestreak’s angry screams were just background noise at this point. Prowl’s processor felt foggy. It had to be the pain. Prowl hadn’t been in this much pain in a while.

“You know what Prowl,” said Barricade, ignoring Bluestreak. “I think I like seeing you express emotion. It makes me smile.”

With a toothy grin, Barricade grabbed Prowl’s other arm and popped it out of place, then the right leg, and finally the left leg. Prowl screamed as each limb was slowly pulled out of place. Barricade couldn’t help but admire his handy work. There was no way Prowl was going anywhere now. Bluestreak’s voice was growing hoarse from all this cursing.

“You make such a cute doll Prowl,” said Barricade. “Like the ones Chop Shop used to have.” He laughed at his own joke as he left the room and sealed the two other mechs in.

Bluestreak and Prowl were left in pitch darkness and a numbing silence that was broken by two sets of vents working overtime.  Prowl was paralyzed and broken. In any other circumstances he might have rolled his optics at the extremes Barricade went to subdue him. Now he needed a clear processor.

There was still a chance that Bumblebee would be able to find them and free them before whatever the priest and Barricade were planning was ready. It was most likely a fool’s hope. Prowl’s calculations told him the odds of Bumblebee finding both him and Bluestreak were low. The odds of making it to freedom were even lower.

“Prowl?” croaked Bluestreak. “Are you, um, are you in a lot of pain still?” Asking if Prowl was in pain seemed moot at this point.

“It’s manageable,” said Prowl slowly.

“I’m sorry, I was so stupid,” said Bluestreak. He sounded as close to tears as a Cybertronian could get. “I should have tried harder to verify that you had sent that message. I should have waited for confirmation. I should I have gone to Iacon first! I should have-!”

“Bluestreak,” said Prowl with as much fondness as he could in the state he was in. “What has happened has happened. We need to focus on what happens next.”

Prowl heard the chains rattle as Bluestreak adjusted the position his wings were at. “You’re right,” said Bluestreak. “I’m sorry I caused all this. But you’re right. Would you like to debrief me sir?”

Prowl managed a weak smile that he knew the younger mech couldn’t see. “I think formalities are unnecessary right now. Tell me are you hurt? Do you know how you ended up here?”

“I’m alright,” said Bluestreak. “What about you?”

“I’ll survive,” said Prowl.

Bluestreak swallowed a lump in his intake. “I’m not sure how I got in this cell. I remember landing in Praxus and looking for you. I’m not sure what happened after, but I woke up in a dark room. I found a way out under the berth, but I was still underground. I followed someone, at least I think it was someone, who led me to an opening, but then Barricade was there. He knocked me out and I woke up here.”

Prowl let his engine hum in an attempt to sooth the distressed mech. It caused a minor ache in his abdomen. Bluestreak’s story was eerily similar to what had happened to him many vorns ago. He had had no memories of his abduction too.

“Prowl,” said Bluestreak, interrupting the older Praxian’s thoughts. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Prowl wished he could lie, but he couldn’t do that to Bluestreak. Bluestreak hadn’t been a youngling in a very long time. He was a warrior who had earned his place in the Autobot army. Still, the truth was beyond probable. Bluestreak might think he was going insane.

“Yes,” said Prowl slowly. “I know what they are planning. They wish to awaken Unicron.”

“Unicron?” asked Bluestreak. “He’s a myth.”

“He’s very real,” said Prowl. “With Cybertron weak, it would be easy for Unicron to take over.”

They sat in silence for a few breems. Bluestreak wrapping his processor over what Prowl had said. Bluestreak didn’t have the greatest faith in those old stories. Oh sure he believed in the Matrix, he had witnessed what Optimus Prime could do, but Primus and Unicron were just myths to him.

“I wouldn’t have thought you would believe in Unicron,” said Bluestreak, breaking the silence.

“It’s not that I believe in him,” said Prowl. “I’ve seen what he can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked the update. New chapters might start coming a little slower right now. I'm currently working on a novel that is taking up a lot of my time. 
> 
> Please let me know if you spotted any grammar and/or spelling errors.


	12. Between this World and the Next

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumblebee comes face to face with the ghosts of Praxus. Thundercracker accepts his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holiday Season! I've been working hard on finishing this story. It might not be complete until after the new year, but I promise it's almost over. Please let me know what you think!

This was by far the strangest day Bumblebee had ever experienced and that included all of the time he spent working for Jazz. His comms weren’t working, zombies were apparently real, and he was now getting directions from a ghost. Well, Thundercracker was following the ghost, Bumblebee was following Thundercracker.  

Thundercracker had had a reputation for being one of the saner Decepticon seekers. From what Bumblebee remembered, the seeker hadn’t been one to torture anyone and he had a soft side for lost sparklings. He didn’t seem like the same seeker now. Thundercracker’s wings continued to twitch and his movements were jerky like the zombie bots he and Prowl had come accross. Bumblebee was worried the much larger mech would fall and be unable to get back up.

_Bang!_

“He says we need to go this way,” said Thundercracker heading down a new passage way.

Bumblebee slapped the side of the wall. The tunnel went down a long way with several smaller tunnels breaking off from it. Thundercracker had already starting down the dark passageway. He seemed unafraid of any dangers that might lurk ahead.

“Hey, Thundercracker,” said Bumblebee. “You’re sure this is a ghost? It’s not one of those creepy grey mechs right?” He hadn’t sensed any mechs (living or dead) in the tunnel.

“I’m sure,” said Thundercracker in a rough voice.

Bumblebee was starting to feel a bit frustrated. It was like listening to a bad Earth movie when the characters would play the pronoun game. Who was he? Why was he important?  Does this he have a name?

“Look, Thundercracker, I don’t think you realize how serious this situation is,” said Bumblebee in a forced calm voice.

Thundercracker didn’t respond, but continued to walk as though in a daze down the dark corridor. Bumblebee was starting to lose what little patients he had left. “How do you even know it’s a ghost we’re following?”

“I’m not crazy,” said Thundercracker.

“I didn’t say you were,” said Bumblebee quickly. “It’s just, Prowl was dragged off by our version of zombies back there and we still don’t have any idea where Bluestreak is.” Bumblebee paused for a few kliks. “I haven’t been able to get a signal with my comms either. I don’t know if backup is on their way or if we’re going to be the first victims of the Cybertronian zombie apocalypse.”

Thundercracker stopped walking. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a strange few days for me too.”

 Bumblebee vented a deep sigh. “You don’t think the ghost will harm us?”

Thundercracker turned to face the much smaller minibot. “I don’t think he could even if he wanted to, not physically at least.”

“Has it hurt you?”

_Bang!_

Thundercracker grimaced. “Not intentionally.”

“But it has hurt you?”

Thundercracker curled into himself. It was odd seeing someone so large look so small. “He’s my brother.”

That wasn’t what Bumblebee had been expecting. It took Bumblebee a few minutes to let that information sink in. The air was starting to feel thick, almost suffocating. “You had a brother?”

Thundercracker nodded, too emotional to speak.

“Was he in Praxus when the city fell?” asked Bumblebee.

Thundercracker chewed on his lips. “We all were. I was ordered to cut ties with my Praxian heritage. My commander thought it was the Decepticon way. He wanted the weakness cut out of me.”

“Starscream ordered you to-”

“No,” said Thundercracker sharply. He took a deep vent. “No, it was my commander before I joined up with Skywarp and Starscream. Starscream was against the idea of going after Praxus. I remember Megatron beating him after that nasty argument.”

Bumblebee reached out a servo to comfort Thundercracker, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to touch the seeker. “I’m sorry,” said Bumblebee.

“I was raised here,” said Thundercracker. “Praxus was my home. I only went to Vos because my creators wanted me to socialize with other seekers. They joined the matrix right after I graduated. My brother looked Praxian. He settled down here with a mate.”

Bumblebee finally closed the distance between them and gripped Thundercracker’s upper arm. It wasn’t much, but it was comforting to the seeker.

“They had a son too,” said Thundercracker. His vents hitched. Thundercracker didn’t want to completely break down in this bleak place. “I only ever saw pictures of him.”

“Is that why you were so kind to me and Bluestreak?” asked Bumblebee. It had been a very long time since that incident had occurred, near the start of the war. The transport he and Bluestreak had been on had been attacked. When they woke up, Thundercracker had been there to look after them along with Soundwave. Somehow they got back to the Autobots, but Bumblebee hardly remembered the details.

“I would never have allowed Megatron near a sparkling,” said Thundercracker.

Bumblebee bit his lip. “No, I meant, why you acted so weird around Bluestreak. Was it because he reminded you of what you lost?”

“More than you can ever know,” Thundercracker finally admitted. “He looks just like my brother.”

Vorns of repressed emotion seemed to spill from Thundercracker. He was shaking hard now. Bumblebee helped to guide him to a sitting position against the wall.

“I should have done more to stop it!” screamed Thundercracker smashing his servo against the ground. “I should have realized sooner what was going on.”

“But you were able to save Bluestreak,” Bumblebee gently reminded him.

“Barely,” said Thundercracker. “He shouldn’t have been forced to grow up without his creators. He shouldn’t have been a child of war.”

Bumblebee watched Thundercracker closely. He wasn’t shaking as hard anymore. He hoped that the seeker would calm down soon. Who knew when a zombie bot would show up?

“Our childhood wasn’t ideal,” said Bumblebee slowly. “But it was happy and we were loved.”

Thundercracker let out a shaky laugh. “At least you lived.”

“At least you lived”

Thundercracker and Bumblebee whipped their helms around at the new voice. Bumblebee checked his scanners. How had someone snuck up on them?

The faint outline of a small creature slowly stepped out of the darkness. They were smaller than Bumblebee and had tiny doorwings. The closer the being got, the more defined they became, like when a picture starts to come into focus.

“You!” said Thundercracker.

The mysterious being was close enough now for Bumblebee to see that it was a young mech, barely a youngling. He was ash grey and Bumblebee thought he looked a lot like Bluestreak when he was very young.

“We need your help,” said the youngling again. It had an echo like ring to it, as though the youngling were speaking through liquid.

The shock of seeing a youngling in the dark underbelly of Praxus was finally starting to wear off of Bumblebee. “Who are you?” asked Bumblebee. He was happy his voice didn’t shake.

“I used to be called Barricade,” said the youngling.

“Barricade?” gasped Thundercracker. “I know of a Praxian called Barricade.”

“He took my life from me,” said the tinier version on Barricade. “I’ve been trapped down here since the ritual first happened.”

“What?” Bumblebee asked dumbly. His mouth had fallen open and he had to mentally tell himself to close his jaw.

“The curse of Praxus,” breathed Thundercracker. It was hardly a whisper, but clearly audible.

“Yes,” said the youngling. “I was trapped down here with an enforcer. I think his name was Prowl. Then the evil ghost did something to me. There was this smoke everywhere and then I wasn’t me anymore. Someone else was me and I was trapped down here.”

“By Primus,” said Thundercracker.

“You have to stop them from completing the ritual,” begging the real Barricade, the one who was also a ghost.

“How?” asked Thundercracker. Bumblebee was too stunned to speak. This couldn’t be real.

“You need something blessed by Primus,” said a new voice. Thundercracker’s vents started working a little too hard again. Bumblebee watched in fascination as a new mech materialized from the darkness. He was a dark grey with a few splashes of red here and there. There was a faint glow around him too. The youngling Barricade turned and clung to the new mech’s leg.

“Bluestreak?” Bumblebee asked. “Are you alright?”

He reached forward and his servo passed right through the new mech’s arm. It took more effort than Bumblebee would ever admit to not scream. He stumbled back a few steps. His servos felt icy cold.

“I told you Grayscale and Bluestreak looked very similar,” said Thundercracker quietly. He refused to look at the new ghost that had joined them.

Bumblebee took a few deep vents to calm down. “What the frag. You guys really are ghosts.”

Thundercracker let out another shaky laugh. “I told you.”

“I’m so sorry brother,” Grayscale said addressing Thundercracker. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Stop,” said Thundercracker. He still refused to face the two ghosts. “Just, stop, I’m here to make things right.”

“You can help us right?” asked the young Barricade. “You can stop the Unmaker from returning?”

“I don’t have anything blessed by Primus,” said Thundercracker. “My life is pretty cursed.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa,” said Bumblebee holding up his servos. “What do you mean save us? Do you mean from the zombies? I just want to get Prowl and Bluestreak out of here.”

“You save your friends, you save all of us,” said Grayscale. “You see everyone who died when Praxus fell is still here, trapped.”

There was an electric buzz that shot through the air. The tunnel was suddenly lit with dozen, no hundreds, maybe thousands of bright lights. The tiny balls of light floated in the air. Faint outlines of mechs and femmes were just barely visible.

“We can’t go to the Matrix,” said the young Barricade. “We need you to stop the ritual from being finished.”

“It’s the ritual to summon Unicron isn’t it?” Thundercracker asked. “Like the stories we heard as younglings. The curse of the Northern Temple.”

 “Unicron,” said Bumblebee. “But he’s a myth.”

The young Barricade shook his head. “He’s real,” he whispered. “He’s been waiting for a long time to make his return.”

“Primus is weak,” said Grayscale. “That’s why the other rituals failed. Primus was always able to intervene before they were completed. We need an objected blessed by the Creator to stop it.”

A light bulb in the back of Bumblebee’s helm went off. Brawn, Gears, and Beachcomber had  given him a warning about Praxus. Then there were the paintings in the first temple he and Prowl had been to. They had shown a mech fighting with a crystal like object.

Without thinking, Bumblebee reached into his subspace and pulled out the beautiful crystal Beachcomber had given him. It glowed and seemed to pulse in time to his spark beat.

“What is that?” asked Thundercracker totally entranced by the crystal.

“It was a gift to protect me,” said Bumblebee. “From my minibot friends.”

“It’s a gift from Primus,” said Grayscale. “Minibots were said to keep special charms blessed by Primus to protect their sparklings?”

“What do I do with it?” asked Bumblebee holding it out to the ghosts. He made a note to ask Brawn about the charms when he got back to Iacon. If he ever got back to Iacon.

The ghosts stared blankly back at him. Maybe they weren’t as all knowing as they appeared to be. “Let Primus be your guide,” said Grayscale. The glow around him was starting to fade slightly, like a TV that was losing its reception. The other glowing balls of light were starting to dim as well.

Bumblebee didn’t feel that was much of an answer. “Is it a weapon?” he asked.

“You must hurry,” said the younger Barricade. “The ritual is starting.” Their voices were also getting harder to hear.

“But, what are we supposed to do? Where are we supposed to go?” asked Bumblebee.

“Follow the pulses,” said Grayscale. “You must hurry.”

Thundercracker and Bumblebee were once again thrown into darkness except for the faint light coming from their headlights and the glowing crystal. They stayed like that for a solid breem. The only sound breaking the stillness was their vents.

“Do you believe me now?” asked Thundercracker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I've been slowly working on upgrading my laptop and writing a novel. I'm 22000 words in. Hopefully I'll find some time to finish it before 2018.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and Bluestreak are reunited, but not under the best circumstances. Meanwhile, Thundercracker and Bumblebee learn more about their foes through their ghostly allies and come up with a plan to stop their evil plans.
> 
> But will they succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been a while since my last post. A lot has been going on in RL and I've had some major writers block issues. Don't worry, there is an ending to this story, it's just slowly being written. I will do my very best to have the final chapters up within the next month or so.

Prowl’s platting occasionally rattled. He couldn’t deny the pain he was in, but he needed to focus. He might not be able to save himself, but he had to find a way to save Bluestreak. The young mech had been his light in the darkest days of the war.

“Prowl,” said Bluestreak. “Please, Prowl, please be alright. We’ll get out of this. I know we will. You always have a plan.”

Except Prowl didn’t have a plan. He was completely immobile and he couldn’t think through all the pain. Curse Barricade and curse this evil place.

“Prowl, hey Prowl,” said Bluestreak. The young mech’s voice shook with uncertainty.

Prowl somehow managed to lift his helm up to look at the young mech. “Yes Bluestreak,” said Prowl with a shaky voice.

“What are our odds of escaping?” asked Bluestreak. This wasn’t a question from a youngling seeking comforts, but from a young soldier caught behind enemy lines. “Is there any hope of a rescue?”

Prowl glanced around him. The cell was dark, only illuminated by their optics and Bluestreak’s head lights. He couldn’t be certain that someone or something wasn’t listening in.

“Prime should know we’re missing by now. I haven’t been able to communicate with Iacon since I landed,” said Prowl. “He’ll have likely sent out a search party already. Depending on how closely he kept to protocol, they should be here within the next few cycles.”

Prowl didn’t want to give away the fact that Bumblebee had also come with him to Praxus. Barricade wasn’t stupid. He must have guessed that Prowl had brought backup with him, but Prowl hoped that the possessed Decepticon would think he’d have brought Jazz or Smokescreen instead of the small minibot.

“I landed in the western area of the city. The search teams would have to start their investigations there,” said Prowl.

“I see,” said Bluestreak. The young mech sounded resigned. Hopefully whatever Barricade and the priest had planned would take a long time to prepare. “How are you doing?”

Prowl shut his optics for a moment. “I am alright for now,” said Prowl. “But I would only slow you down if an opportunity to escape presented itself.”

“I’m not leaving you,” said Bluestreak. The chains binding him rattled as Bluestreak tried to lean closer to his mentor.

“Bluestreak I want you to live,” said Prowl. “If there is even the slimmest chance of escape, I want you to take it and I want you to leave me behind if you have to.”

“No!” yelled Bluestreak.

“You will,” said Prowl. “How are your wings?”

“They hurt a bit,” said Bluestreak. “Ratchet’s going to throw a fit when he sees them. The wounds aren’t that deep, just uncomfortable.”

Prowl gave him a tired smile. He hoped that Bluestreak managed to see the grumpy medic again. He hoped that Bluestreak lived a long life, maybe raised a few sparklings of his own, and that he enjoyed every klik of it. Bluestreak had a future ahead of him.

“Ratchet is gonna want to tear something apart when he sees you,” added Bluestreak.

“I’m sure he will,” said Prowl. He tried to move the digits of his right servo, but only succeeded in causing a few twitches.

“Can you move at all?” asked Bluestreak.

“It’s difficult,” admitted Prowl. It was a small miracle that he could make any movements. Perhaps Prowl’s luck hadn’t run out just yet.

“I could carry you,” said Bluestreak. Prowl couldn’t help the deep affection that wrapped around his spark at Bluestreak’s devotion to him.

The door to their cell creaked on its rusty hinges. Barricade made sure the awful noise lasted as long as possible. He chuckled as he stepped into the small dark cell like a menacing shadow.

“Plotting are we?” asked Barricade glancing between the two captured mechs. “Aw, so sweet.”

“Stay away from us,” snarled Bluestreak.

“Ah, ah, ah,” said Barricade wagging a single clawed digit in the air. “You shouldn’t stress yourself out. We wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to your body before Unicron can take it over.”

Bluestreak shuddered at the threat. Prowl studied Barricade as though he were an insubordinate recruit.

“Don’t worry,” said Barricade sweetly, walking up to Bluestreak and petting one of his doorwings. “It’ll be quick. You might have a slight personality change, but there won’t be any pain.”

“I won’t let you use me for some heinous ritual,” said Bluestreak.

“Oh, like you have a choice,” said Barricade. He slapped Bluestreak upside the helm. Bluestreak jerked from the impact.

Barricade turned to look at Prowl. Their optics met for a few kliks. “What?” Barricade asked. “Nothing to say to me? Have you figured out your escape attempt yet?”

“At least twenty,” said Prowl coolly.

“Liar,” said Barricade with a chuckle. “There won’t be any escape attempts from you.”

“If you already knew the answer, why did you ask it?” asked Prowl. Barricade narrowed his optics at him.

“Prime’s rescue team will be here in a matter of breems,” interrupted Bluestreak. “He knows we’re missing. They’ll stop you.”

“Really?” asked Barricade. “I haven’t picked up any signals. I think you might be underestimating your timeframe by a little bit.” He held up two of his claws very close together, but not touching. He laughed again at his own joke.

“Barricade!” snapped a hoarse voice. “I told you to get them ready.”

The shape of the priest melted out of the shadows to fill the doorway, two zombie mechs looming behind him. Barricade rolled his optics as he turned back towards Bluestreak. He reached up to where the chains were hooked to the poll in the ceiling and released Bluestreak’s servos. Bluestreak had seconds to stop himself from falling on his face. Streams of energon began to pour from the holes in Bluestreak’s wings.

Barricade grabbed the spikes that had been shoved into Bluestreak’s wings and pulled. With a sickening pop, they came out. Bluestreak gasped in pain and sank to the floor. He was caught by Barricade, who lifted him onto a shoulder.

“I wouldn’t try to escape,” said Barricade. “One snap of my digits and Prowl will find himself short a helm.”

“Don’t believe that for a second,” said Prowl. “He needs both of us to complete the ritual.”

“True,” said Barricade. He made a show of thinking hard for a moment, putting a single claw to his chin. Bluestreak squirmed on his shoulder. “But if a rescue team is on its way, like you said, I guess I’ll be able to find a replacement.”

“Enough,” snapped the priest. “The crystals will only keep the proper frequency for so long. We must act now!”

“Alright, alright,” said Barricade. He pointed at Prowl. “You lot, drag the enforcer to the altar and make sure he’s secure. We wouldn’t want him to run off anywhere now would we? Oh wait, you can’t.”

Barricade laughed as the two zombies approached Prowl, each one taking an arm as they removed the chains holding Prowl down. Prowl tried to move again, tried to stand on his own, but it was useless. He could no more walk on his own peds than he could fight.

“Who’s ready to meet Unicron,” said Barricade following the priest out of the cell, pinching Bluestreak’s aft. Bluestreak yelped at the evil mech’s touch.

* * *

Bumblebee and Thundercracker followed the spirit orbs of Grayscale and Barricade down the dark tunnel. After their first encounter and disappearance, the two orbs had returned to offer the two living mechs guidance. Occasionally Bumblebee would tap along the wall to make sure they weren’t about to meet any more nasty surprises. The way was clear.

“Do you feel that?” asked Thundercracker after what felt like several cycles of silence. He had stopped in the middle of the tunnel, blocking Bumblebee from moving past him. His wings twitched.

Bumblebee stiffened and focused all of his senses on his surroundings. A rhythmic pulsing faintly danced across his sensory net. He put his servo to the tunnel wall. The pulsing intensified.

“What is that?” asked Bumblebee.

“The crystals are reacting to the darkness within Cybertron,” said young Barricade in his far away voice. It gently echoed around the dark tunnel.

“Crystals?” asked Thundercracker. “Like the red ones that have taken over Praxus?”

“No, these crystals are blue,” said young Barricade.

“What’s so special about these crystals?” asked Bumblebee.

“According to legend,” said Thundercracker. “They are a link between the many plains of existence. The priests would use them to communicate with the Matrix and Primus, but they were corrupted over time.”

“Partially true,” said Grayscale. “The crystals are actually impartial to what we think of as ‘good’ and ‘evil’. They merely align with the natural frequencies of Cybertron. A very special alignment is about to take place. If the ritual is allowed to continue, Unicron will be able to cross back over into our world.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Bumblebee.

“It’s not,” said Grayscale. “He will be our complete destruction.”

“Something Megatron failed to do,” said Thundercracker.

 “Okay,” said Bumblebee. “So we stop this ritual and we’ll save Prowl and Bluestreak.”

“You have to stop it before the black mist can rise,” said young Barricade. “Once the mist is inside the sacrifice they will become like me. If you want to save your friends you must do it before or right as the ceremony starts.”

“It’s always got to be complicated,” said Bumblebee. He rolled his shoulders back. “We’ll need a plan.”

“The room is large,” said young Barricade. “Thundercracker, you’ll have a hard time hiding, but Bumblebee might be able to find a spot behind one of the crystal growths.”

“With that paint scheme?” questioned Thundercracker. He glanced back at Bumblebee, taking in his bright yellow paint.

Bumblebee rolled his optics. “And yet, I was never caught by you guys,” he said. He then activated his paint nanites to change to a dark dusty yellow with other shades mixed in certain spots to create a camouflage pattern.

“So that’s why you were always hard to stop,” said Thundercracker. The paint job made it difficult to notice the minibot was there unless you were intentionally looking right at him.

“Jazz and Ratchet helped me figure this out ages ago,” said Bumblebee. “Most mech’s optics have a hard time tracking this paint job, so I blend right into almost any background.

“Impressive,” said Thundercracker.

“So, where should I position myself?” asked Bumblebee.

“There should be an altar on the far edge of the room,” said young Barricade. “There was a door close by it. It’s hard to see and will likely be guarded.”

“I can take the door,” said Thundercracker. “Bumblebee, why don’t you sneak in while I take out whoever’s guarding the door? Do we know if the ritual has started yet?”

Grayscale’s orb floated closer to the two mechs. “I’m sensing that they are moving the two mechs now. Bumblebee should have plenty of time to sneak in before they arrive.”

“What if there isn’t a guard?” asked Bumblebee.

“Then I’ll just burst in,” said Thundercracker. “It should provide you with enough of a distraction to stab the priest and, um, Barricade with your crystal.”

“Agreed,” said Bumblebee. He checked again if the area was clear. “There are two smaller connecting tunnels not too far from here, then the tunnel ends. I’m not sensing anything big blocking the path.”

“We will be with you too,” said Grayscale. “We’ll remain out of sight until you need us.” Thundercracker nodded his thanks to the floating orb that was his brother.

“But you can’t help us fight,” said Bumblebee.

“No,” said Grayscale. “But we might be able to cause enough of a distraction in our spectral forms for you and Thundercracker to free your friends.”

The pulsing was getting stronger. Thundercracker’s wings twitched in agitation creating a light breeze. Bumblebee’s plating was starting itch with each pulse.

“How long will the crystals be at the frequency needed for the ritual?” asked Bumblebee.

“Less than a cycle,” said Grayscale.

“That’s a long time,” said Bumblebee.

“Not if you can stab the priest and the creature in my body,” said young Barricade. “Then they’ll be forced to cross over and they can’t complete the ritual from the Matrix. Just a nick is enough.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Bumblebee. “You guys will distract them and I’ll stab them with my crystal. It shouldn’t be too difficult. It almost sounds like an Earth myth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you guys so much for reading this story. I hope you guys have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it.


	14. The Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the ceremony to awaken the Unmaker begins.

Prowl hung limp as a rag doll between the two zombie mechs dragging him behind Barricade and the evil priest. Pain radiated from every inch of his frame and made it difficult for him to think clearly. He tried to move one of his digits. Nothing.

The faint pulsing hum of the tainted crystals was getting stronger. Bluestreak’s venting was starting to match the rhythm. It was worrisome. Prowl didn’t want to think about what would happen if Bluestreak succumbed to their power.

The crystal chamber was getting closer. Prowl did everything that he could to get his body to obey him. Then he felt it. His servo twitched. Now if only he could move his entire arm.

Their procession stopped before the chamber’s entrance. The evil priest muttered something that Prowl couldn’t hear.

“Hurry up,” growled Barricade jostling Bluestreak. Bluestreak’s venting paused for a moment, then the young mech threw his weight to the right, attempting to roll off Barricade’s shoulder. Barricade grabbed the squirming mech and dug his claws into his side. Small droplets of energon appeared on Bluestreak’s doorwings.

Bluestreak howled in pain. “Frag you!” he screeched.

“Now, now,” said Barricade hoisting Bluestreak back onto his shoulder. “I told you there’d be consequences if you did anything stupid.”

One of Prowl’s doorwings was grabbed by a zombie servo and pulled back. A sharp pain radiated across delicate sensors as a knife was teased over the doorwing. Prowl tried to bite back a whimper. His servos gave an involuntary jerk.

“Stop it!” cried Bluestreak. “Please stop it!”

Barricade laughed. “Next time listen.”

“Enough,” said the evil priest. “The right frequency will only last for so long. Stop this nonsense.”

Barricade adjusted Bluestreak back over his shoulder. Bluestreak grunted. “Fine,” said Barricade. “Spoil my fun.”

Prowl’s doorwing was released and he was once again dragged between the two zombie mechs.  However, he had discovered something important. He could indeed move a little bit more. He tried flex the digits on his servo. There was a faint sensation of movement. It was a start.

The pulsing was becoming stronger, ghosting against every inch of Prowl’s frame. Bluestreak’s doorwings twitching in time with each pulse.  He didn’t want to think too hard about the sensations, but it was growing harder and harder not to. The pulsing felt like it was invading his very spark.

Bluestreak remained still in Barricade’s grip. His soft blue optics looking to Prowl for reassurance that they would make it out of this alive, but Prowl had none to give. He hadn’t come up with a single plan that wasn’t extremely flawed. His only hope was that Bumblebee had been able to get a message to Iacon for backup. It was still extremely unlikely that the minibot knew their location, but it was enough to keep Prowl from sinking entirely into despair.

Prowl was dragged into a familiar room. It was dark inside, except for an odd blue glow that pulsed from above. Once their party was in the room, Barricade tripped a hidden switch and the ancient platform elevator they were on began to rise. The pulsing blue light was getting closer and closer. Bluestreak let out a low moan.

It was getting harder and harder to think clearly. Prowl offlined his optics and vented a few cycles of stale air. He couldn’t think, couldn’t calculate. The elevator ground to a halt.

“Place the offering on the altar,” said the evil priest.

Prowl onlined his optics. They were back in the room that haunted his recharge cycle. This is where he had looked evil in the faceplates and barely escaped with his life. It was unlikely he would be as lucky this time.

“You heard him,” said Barricade to his zombie mech minions. As Prowl was dragged forward, he briefly thought he caught a glimpse of yellow amongst the pulsing blue crystals.

The zombie mechs easily lifted Prowl onto the altar and restrained his servos and peds with the rusted cuffs. Bluestreak began struggling again.

“Frag you all,” the young mech screeched. “Optimus Prime will be here any minute. He’ll arrest all of you!”

“Shut up!” roared Barricade slamming Bluestreak onto the ground. Prowl could only watch in detached horror as the young mech he had helped raise cried out. A growing despair that Prowl had been trying to ignore was finally threatening to overcome him. He barely held back a sob as Barricade grabbed Bluestreak by the back of his helm and jerked the young mech upright.

Prowl was going to die while Bluestreak became possessed by an ancient evil and there was nothing anyone could do about it. This was a worse fate than what he had ever imagined would happen to him during the war.

“It is time to begin,” said the evil priest. “I present the offering and the vessel for our Dark Lord Unicron.”

Prowl turned his helm to look at the priest. The red crystal that had changed Prowl so much was held high in his servos. The crystal seemed even more menacing than he remembered.

“Please stop this,” begged Bluestreak.

Prowl’s senses were once again beginning to dull. The world around him slowly becoming numb and grey. Bluestreak’s begging becoming distant background noise. It was growing harder and harder to think. Prowl vaguely thought he could see a dark mist rising up from the ground.

_Bang!_

The spell was broken as quickly as it had been cast. The evil priest turned to the source of the loud noise.

“What the – !” The evil priest was cut off by a large blue mech punching him right in the faceplate. The mech’s fist went right through the evil priest.

Prowl watched in a dazed fascination as the blue mech stumbled right through the evil priest. The evil priest’s form vanished and the blue mech was disoriented by the lack of a solid object blocking his path.

Faintly, Prowl registered Barricade laughing. He turned his helm to look at the mech holding Bluestreak in place.

“Is this the rescue you meant?” snickered Barricade, still firmly holding Bluestreak by the back of his helm. “One depressed seeker? He is barely - ARG!”

Barricade’s laughter was cut off by Bumblebee plunging a knife into his unprotected side. Barricade roared in anger and tried to grab the tiny mech, but vorns of training and living with the terror twins had taught Bumblebee the best way to dodge the wandering servos of larger mechs. The yellow minibot danced out of Barricade’s reach.

Bluestreak used Barricade’s distraction as an opportunity to free himself. He shifted his weight right into Barricade, freeing his legs enough to hook one behind his captor’s knee. Barricade crashed into the ground. Bluestreak quickly scrambled up and jumped onto Barricade’s back, pinning his former captor to the ground.

“Hey Bee,” Bluestreak said with a shaky voice. “Long time no see.”

“It’s good to see you too buddy,” said Bumblebee as he dodged one of the zombie mechs. In his servos was a small blue crystal and a knife. Prowl tried to follow the minibot’s movements, but the agile mech moved out of his line of sight. He felt someone touch his servo.

“Hello Commander Prowl,” said the blue seeker. It took Prowl a moment to realize that it was one of Starscream’s old trine mates, Thundercracker. “Don’t worry sir, I’ll get you out of these restraints.”

Thundercracker took a blaster out of his subspace and carefully aimed it at the cuffs holding Prowl to the altar. Elsewhere, Prowl could hear Bluestreak and Bumblebee still struggling with Barricade. A small pop and Prowl heard the chain holding one of his servos in place snap. A dark shadow began to rise behind the seeker. Thundercracker shot the other restraints, then leaned down to pick Prowl up.

“Behind you,” gasped out Prowl, but it was too late. The evil priest rematerialized behind Thundercracker, holding him tightly with the crimson crystal close to a main energon line in the seeker’s exposed neck. Prowl tried to roll to his side to help his savior. He managed to roll a little onto his side, but not much else.

“I don’t think so,” growled the priest. “I’ve waited too long for my master to be reborn. I refuse to wait any longer.”

From behind him, Prowl heard Barricade roar again in anger. Bumblebee yelled at Bluestreak to move out of the way, but it sounded like the struggle was going in Barricade’s favor.

There was a flash of light. Hundreds, maybe thousands of orbs flooded the chamber. The evil priest let out a shriek. He released Thundercracker and covered his optics with his servos, dropping the crimson crystal. Prowl saw Thundercracker dive for the crystal.

“What the frag is this?” snarled Barricade.

Prowl turned back to look at the three other mechs fighting. Barricade madly waved his servos at the floating orbs as if they were Earth mosquitoes. Both Bumblebee and Bluestreak were out of his clawed reach. Bumblebee held his crystal up like a small blade. The floating orbs completely ignoring them. One of the zombie mechs was in a heap behind Bumblebee, while the other was still standing. It twitched its way towards Bluestreak.

“Hey Bee,” said Bluestreak. “Do you have any extra weapons?”

“Nothing that will take out these guys,” admitted Bumblebee. He ran towards Bluestreak, jumped in front of him and slashed at the zombie mech’s shin. The zombie mech gave one final twitch before collapsing onto the ground.

“Thanks for that,” said Bluestreak.

 “Give it back to me!” again shrieked the evil priest from behind Prowl.

“Like frag I will,” grunted Thundercracker.

Prowl’s armor itched to joined the fight. His thoughts were starting to clear and his processor and battle computer had started calculating different scenarios. The pulsing was slowly fading from his senses.

The orbs were starting to change their shapes. At first, they shifted to look like little fireballs encased in a thick mist, but then more details began to emerge. They looked like mechs, not as defined as the evil priest, but more transparent and ethereal. They converged on Barricade, blocking him from Bluestreak and Bumblebee.

“Stay back!” Barricade hissed with his claws extended.

One of the orbs closest to the ground glided over to Prowl. It took the orb a klik to gather the energy to change its shape. As more features became defined, Prowl felt tense.

The sounds of the fight going on around him fell to the background. Prowl could only stare in shock at the tiny being before him. How was this possible? It wasn’t logical.

“Prowl,” said the small voice of the young Barricade. He sounded like he was speaking through water, distant, but loud.

“Barricade,” gasped Prowl staring at the little ghost. A deep sadness filled Prowl. He tried to pull in a deep vent of air to calm himself, but found it didn’t help. His limbs, even with his limited mobility, were shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” said Prowl.

The young Barricade reached out a small hand in a gesture of comfort. It passed right through one of Prowl’s wrists. Prowl had to fight off the start of a processor crash. Seeing the ghostly image of a mech who was also several meters away was not logical, but he had to stay conscious. They needed a plan to escape the Praxian underground.

“It wasn’t your fault,” said young Barricade.

Prowl shook his head. “I should have saved you,” he said. “I thought I had…”

“The mist,” said young Barricade. “There was nothing you could do once it infected me.” He raised his small hand again and touched the center of Prowl’s bumper, right over his spark. The tremendous pain that had been a constant to Prowl for so long seemed to melt away.

“We will keep them busy as long as we can,” said young Barricade. “You must make sure that the mist doesn’t infect anyone. Not until the crystal frequency has changed again.”

Prowl nodded. The ghostly young Barricade slowly faded back to his orb like form. “Thank you for being with me, before,” said the fading voice of young Barricade.

A heavy weight fell on top of Prowl. Prowl grunted as the wind was knock out of him. He managed to sit up a little to see Thundercracker slumped over his legs. A small trickle of energon leaked from a wound on the side of his helm.

“You wretched creatures have done enough!” snarled the evil priest. “I won’t wait any longer.”

The evil priest raised the crimson crystal high above his helm, right over Thundercracker’s prone form, and began to chant in an ancient Cybertronian language. Prowl tried to push himself higher, no longer paralyzed by his pain. He had to get that crystal.

The surrounding crystals pulsed along with the chanting. The air was getting thicker. Prowl was having a hard time pulling air into his vents.

A blur of light blue whizzed past his face. The chanting abruptly stopped. Prowl looked up at the evil priest. Their optics met for a moment before the evil priest glanced down at his chest plates in shock. A light blue crystal stuck out from his chest plates, right where his spark chamber should be.

There was a clatter as the crimson crystal fell again from the priest’s servos. Prowl watched in stunned fascination as the evil priest’s frame jerked, then cracks began to appear. The metal around the wound began to grey and fall away.

The priest’s frame convulsed as though it were being shaken by an invisible hand. His helm was flung back by the force of the convulsions. Dust began to spill from the grey cracked metal. _Snap!_ The helm fell clean off, turning to dust before it hit the ground.

“No!”

Barricade’s loud roar freed Prowl from whatever spell had held him while he watched the priest disintegrate. Prowl whipped his helm around in time to see Barricade toss Bluestreak into Bumblebee. They hit the ground with a hard thud. The glowing orbs around Barricade tried to swarm again, but he batted them away as he charged the altar Prowl and Thundercracker lay on.

Without taking any time to process the situation, Prowl managed to pull his legs free of Thundercracker and rolled off the altar. He reached for the crystals that had fallen on the ground. His servos wrapping around them as he felt a new pain in his side.

“Give those to me, Prowl,” growled Barricade from above him. His sharp claws digging into Prowl’s side. He could feel energon slip from the deep cuts.

“No,” said Prowl defiantly. His servo pulled the two crystals closer to his body. Barricade’s claws pulled up on the stab wound in Prowl’s side, still deeply imbedded in the armor. Prowl felt the sick feeling of energon in his throat. Prowl’s weakened frame couldn’t take much more abuse.

The claws in Prowl’s side were jerked away as Barricade let out a startled cry. “Let go of him you monster!” yelled Bluestreak. Prowl turned his helm enough to see that the young mech had jumped on Barricade’s back.

Barricade reached back one of his clawed hands and grabbed Bluestreak by one of his doorwings. Prowl rolled away before Barricade sent Bluestreak flying. Prowl tried to hold onto the two crystals, but the light blue one slipped out of his servo.

Barricade lunged at Bluestreak’s back, energon covered claws ready to strike. Prowl stuck out his leg, tripping the deranged mech so that he fell on top of Prowl instead.

“You,” growled Barricade. One of his servos went to Prowl’s unprotected neck and began to squeeze, claws moving to scrape against exposed cables. “You won’t stop me. Your precious charge will be the vessel for the Unmaker and you will be another ghost of Praxus.”

Barricade placed the tip of one of his claws right against the main energon line in Prowl’s exposed throat. It only took a little pressure to slice it open. As Prowl felt warm energon bleed from his open wound, he saw Barricade’s face change. His look of triumph morphed into a look of shock. His frame began to jerk and convulse.

Prowl coughed as the energon flooded into his vents and dust began to fall into his mouth. His vision blurred and his strength left him. With a few more shakes, Barricade’s frame fell on top of Prowl. Briefly Prowl caught a glimpse of a yellow mech and a light blue crystal sticking out of Barricade’s back. Then he slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I have already written the last chapter. It just needs to be edited. I should have it up next week. Please enjoy and have a good night...


	15. The Nightmare Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A horror story ends...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening. I just wanted to thank everyone for reading this story. I had a lot of fun writing this story and I hope you had a lot of fun reading it.

Bumblebee stood stunned for a moment as he watched Barricade’s frame disintegrate much like the evil priest’s had. The crystal in his hand didn’t have any energon on it from his fallen foes. As the last of Barricade’s frame crumbled away, Bumblebee was snapped back to reality with the realization that Prowl was hurt.

“Primus,” Bumblebee gasped as he crouched down by his commander. He gently examined the wound in Prowl’s neck and searched for a pulse. There wasn’t one. Bumblebee tried to find any sign of life from Prowl.

Bumblebee flinched as another mech kneel next to him. It took him a klik to realize it was Bluestreak and not one of the ghostly Praxians. Bluestreak took one of Prowl’s servos and pulled it up to nuzzle against his cheek. It was already grey.

“Blue,” said Bumblebee as he gripped Bluestreak’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there sooner.”

Bluestreak met Bumblebee’s optics. His doorwings were shaking with suppressed sobs. “It’s al-alright,” he managed to say.

Above the two grieving mechs, Thundercracker groaned. Bumblebee and Bluestreak looked up as the seeker pushed himself off the altar. Thundercracker tried to stay upright, but his legs wouldn’t support him. He slowly eased himself onto the ground. His vents hitched as he saw Prowl’s grey form.

Thundercracker opened his mouth to say something, then immediately shut it. He kept his optics lowered and clutched a dent in his left side, venting hard. Bumblebee shifted from his spot next to Prowl to see if there was anything he could do, but the seeker shrunk away.

“Please let me see your side,” said Bumblebee.

“It’s just a dent,” said Thundercracker.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Bumblebee asked in earnest. “You were knocked out.”

“I’m fine,” said Thundercracker as he shifted further from Bumblebee’s outstretched servo.

“Let Bee help you,” said Bluestreak in a much calmer voice. His shaking had stopped. Bumblebee thought he sounded a little like Prowl commanding Sunstreaker to let Ratchet heal him after a battle. Thundercracker reluctantly allowed Bumblebee to examine him. None of the seeker’s injuries were life threatening and could wait until they got back to Iacon.

That is if they didn’t run into any more trouble.

“Do you think the zombie mechs are gone?” Thundercracker asked.

Bumblebee shrugged. “No idea.”

“Zombie mechs?” asked Bluestreak. He still held on tightly to Prowl’s servo. “Is that what those things were?”

“More or less,” said Bumblebee.

Thundercracker gazed down at Prowl’s grey frame. Energon was still gently seeping out of the wound in the corpse’s neck. Bumblebee hadn’t even noticed the splotches of it on his hands and faceplates as he looked at Thundercracker’s side. If one of them had been kliks sooner, Prowl might still be alive.

“I’m sorry,” said Thundercracker. “I’m so very sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” said Bumblebee with a frown.

Thundercracker shuttered his optics and clutched his side. “I have a lot to be sorry for,” he muttered.

Bluestreak stood from his crouched position next to Prowl. He was covered in scratches and energon. He studied Thundercracker’s defeated form, then shook his helm.

“I should have reacted faster,” said Thundercracker. “I might have saved him.”

“Maybe,” said Bluestreak quietly. “Maybe you’d have died instead of Prowl or you both would have died. Does it really matter?”

“You should hate me,” said Thundercracker unshuttering his optics, but looking everywhere except at Bluestreak. Bumblebee felt like he was intruding on a very private matter between the two bots.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” said Bluestreak.

It was awkward watching the two other mechs try to communicate vorns of unresolved emotions and questions. They needed a moment without an audience. Bumblebee turned away from them and jumped as he came face to face with Prowl or at least the faint outline of Prowl.

“Prowl,” gasped Bumblebee drawing the attention of Bluestreak and Thundercracker.

“Primus,” said Bluestreak. “Prowl are you…?”

“I’m sorry Bluestreak, but I am very much dead,” said Prowl, answering the question Bluestreak hesitated to ask. His voice was distant and had a slight echo to it, like the other ghosts Bumblebee and Thundercracker had encountered. Prowl’s doorwings resting against his back in a relaxed pose. They had never rested like that while the mech was alive.

“I-I’m going to m-miss you,” said Bluestreak with a slight shake to his voice.

“And I you,” said Prowl with a slight sigh. He approached Bluestreak and gently cupped a servo to Bluestreak’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” He turned to Bumblebee. “Both of you.”

“Prowl?” asked a small voice. By the door near the altar stood the small ghost of Barricade. “Are you coming Prowl?”

Prowl’s ghostly image nodded. “Do great things,” said Prowl. “The war is over. Now is the time to live.”

Prowl turned away from the living mechs and approached the ghostly image of Barricade. The little ghost youngling reached out a tiny servo to Prowl. “Is it finally over?” young Barricade asked Prowl.

“I don’t know,” said Prowl.

Together the two ghosts stepped through the doorway and back into the catacombs under the northern temple. Slowly their images faded until there was only a faint glow in the distance. Bluestreak moved over to Prowl’s body and lifted the grey frame over his shoulder. Thundercracker pushed himself off the altar to help.

“Any ideas on how we get out of here?” asked Bluestreak.

“Nope,” admitted Bumblebee.

Thundercracker pointed through the doorway the ghosts of Prowl and Barricade had disappeared down. “Look,” he said.

In the distance the faint glow became brighter and brighter until a small blue orb was floating in front of them. It danced for a moment in the air before gliding back through the doorway.

“I think he wants us to follow,” said Thundercracker.

“Are you sure?” asked Bluestreak. “What if it’s leading us into a trap?”

“He isn’t,” said Thundercracker gently touching his chest plates, right over his spark chamber.

They followed the orb through the dark tunnels. Bluestreak and Thundercracker in the lead carrying Prowl’s body between them, while Bumblebee covered their rear. The yellow minibot would occasionally slap the walls to make sure they weren’t being lead to a dead-end.

The blue orb continued to light their path until they reached an area where the tunnel had collapsed and created a slope easy to climb back up to the surface. Carefully, they climbed up from the darkness, making sure not to further damage Prowl’s body. All three froze when they reached their freedom.

They were surrounded by hundreds, maybe thousands, of orbs. Each faintly glowed like distant stars. The orb which had been leading the three mechs, approached and took on the distinct form of a Praxian mech.

“Thank you,” said the ghostly image of Grayscale. “You’ve freed us.”

“It was the least I could do for you,” Thundercracker said thickly.

Grayscale glanced at Bluestreak. The young mech was tense, his doorwings held low against his back. “You’ve grown so much,” said the ghost.

Bluestreak opened his mouth, but no words would come out. Bumblebee grabbed onto Bluestreak’s shaking servo and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Please look after each other,” said Grayscale to Bluestreak. “You both deserve peace.”

Grayscale’s form began to fade. The other orbs began to rise to the sky. Bluestreak reached out to Grayscale. “Please don’t leave,” he begged.

“We’ll always be with you,” said Grayscale, he was almost completely translucent. “Both of you.”

Grayscale’s form completely dissipated back into an orb and float up towards the sky. Bumblebee found the whole scene oddly beautiful, like watching fireflies dance back on Earth. He squeezed Bluestreak’s servo again and his friend managed a soft squeeze back. His doorwings were still trembling.

As the orbs reached the sky, their glow merging with the stars above. Thundercracker adjusted his grip on Prowl’s body so that he could take all the dead mech’s weight, freeing Bluestreak. The young Praxian allowed himself to sink to his knees and finally release all the emotions he had been holding in. His sobs caused his body to shake. Bumblebee kept a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’m here for you,” said Bumblebee rubbing one of Bluestreak’s doorwings. “Just let it all out.” It took Bluestreak a few breems to let everything out. His sobs echoed around the destroyed landscape. It took some time, but he managed to get his venting under control.

Thundercracker honestly expected the young Praxian to attack him once he had settled down, but it wasn’t in Bluestreak’s nature to do that. Instead, Blustreak approached the seeker and sighed. It took him another few kliks for him to meet Thundercracker’s optics.

“I would really like it if you came back to Earth with me and Bumblebee,” said Bluestreak. “We don’t have a lot and we’re living at the Autobot embassy, but it’s home and I don’t think I could live on Cybertron even if I wanted to. I don’t know if you feel the same way or not, but I’d really like to spend some time getting to know you. Especially after everything that just happened and maybe we can get through all of this together.”

Bumblebee cleared his vents, startling Bluestreak out of his ramblings. Thundercracker, however seemed to have deflated a bit, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“I’d like that,” the big seeker said softly.

The whine of engines broke through the peaceful silence. Bumblebee’s comm buzzed and he was able to answer.

::Bumblebee here::

::Yo Bee, it’s Jazz. Glad to hear from you finally. Do you know if it’s stable for us to land?:: The cheerful tone in the commander’s voice was startling after the things they had witnessed.

“It’s Jazz,” said Bumblebee to the other two mechs. “He wants to know if he can land.”

“Here’s just as good as anywhere else,” said Thundercracker. Bumblebee stomped his foot on the ground and confirmed that the area was indeed secure enough for the small transport ship to land.

::You’re clear to land sir:: said Bumblebee through his comm link.

::Roger that:: Bumblebee smiled at the Earth idiom.

The small transport ship touched down inside the husk of a collapsed building. Bumblebee and Bluestreak quickly made their way to their rescue team, while Thundercracker followed at a much slower pace still carrying Prowl’s gray body. The ship’s rear hatch popped open and a ramp descended into the rubble. Jazz and Smokescreen appeared at the top of the ramp.

“What kind of crazy adventure did y’all find yourselves in?” Jazz asked as he exited the ship. He looked between the two young Autobots, taking note of Bumblebee’s slightly hunched in form and Bluestreak’s doorwings twitching in distress.

Smokescreen walked up to Bluestreak and put a comforting hand on his shoulders. “You gave us quite a fright,” said the older Praxian. Bluestreak’s doorwings sagged and he turned back to look at the last mech to approach with Prowl’s body cradled close.

“Frag,” Jazz swore as barely a whisper as Smokescreen’s doorwings rose high on his back.

“It’s a long story,” said Bluestreak and Smokescreen gave his shoulder a tight squeeze.

Jazz nodded his helm in understanding. “We can debrief when we get back to Iacon,” he said, somber now that he saw the body of his long time friend. “Let’s get you bots home.”

They quickly boarded the ship and settled in for the return trip. Thundercracker laid Prowl out on one of the small benches and, with the help of Jazz, secured the body. Smokescreen gave Bluestreak’s a gentle hug before he ducked into the flight cabin and took the pilot’s seat. As they ascended into the air, Bluestreak stared out the window. Bumblebee watched him, gently stroking the odd crystal he had been given by his fellow minibots.

“Hey,” said Bumblebee. “I’m here for you if you need to talk.”

Bluestreak continued to stare out the window as the decimated Praxian landscape sank further and further away. After a few breems, he broke the silence and said to Bumblebee, “I’m here for you too.”

* * *

It had taken many vorns before the slowly growing Cybertronian population was ready to rebuild the city of Praxus. The Vosians were quick to volunteer to clear the damaged neighborhoods closest to their city in the west, while several smaller teams from Iacon had started working in the east. The north was still considered too unstable, but that didn’t stop curious younglings from exploring the off-limits area.

“Hurry up guys,” said a lanky red and green youngling with a blue visor covering his optics.

“You’re going too fast Kepler,” whined a tiny yellow and silver youngling. His doorwings were just a little bit too large for his small frame and hindered his balance.

“I am not! You’re just too slow, Buster,” said Kepler with his servos on his hips. “Maybe you need to grow up more. Sparklings shouldn’t wander away from their caretakers.”

“Shut up Kep,” snapped the third mechling. His purple seeker wings flapped in agitation. “Not all of us are meant to grow up to be giants that’ll squish cities.”

“I’m not going to squish cities! Take that back Ronin!”

“Hey guys,” said Buster, but the other two younglings didn’t hear him.

“Look at how big your peds are,” snickered Ronin. “You’re gonna squish everyone in your path.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!

“Guys! Look what I found!”

The two fighting younglings looked to where their friend was pointing. A large gaping hole was at the bottom of a rubble pile. It looked like it led to a tunnel.

“I wonder where it goes,” said Kepler.

“Maybe there’re rust slugs down there,” suggested Ronin pushing Kepler’s shoulder.

“Eww,” said Buster. His doorwings rising high.

“I dare you two scaredy bots to go down there,” said Kepler.

“No way,” said Buster. “I’m not going down there.”

“Why are you a scardy bot?”

“No!” denied Buster.

Ronin rolled his optics and slid down the mountain of rubble. “Come on guys. I bet there’s some awesome stuff down here.”

Kepler smirked at Buster before following Ronin into the hole. Buster stomped his tiny peds before following his friends. They ended up sliding down into a large dark tunnel. Kepler, the only one of the three younglings with headlights, illuminated the area.

“Cool,” he said. “It’s like it goes on forever.”

“Do you think it goes all the way to the center of Cybertron?” asked Buster.

“Nah,” said Ronin. “Besides we’d probably find Primus first.”

“You seriously believe those old sparkling tales?” asked Kepler, trying to keep his headlights as steady as possible.

They took a few cautious steps into the dark tunnel. Buster and Ronin keeping their wings flared to detect any falling objects.

“You know,” said Buster in a low voice. “This place kinda reminds me of the stories my grand-caretakers used to tell me. You know, the ones with the evil priest?”

“Those are just sparkling tales,” said Kepler boldly stepping a head of his friends. “They probably made them up, like the stories about the boggy-mech hiding under the berth.”

_Bang!_

The three younglings whipped around at the loud sound. “What was that?” asked Buster grabbing onto Ronin.

“Something probably fell,” said Kepler searching the area for the cause of the noise.

“I didn’t pick anything up,” said Buster meekly. He fanned out his tiny doorwings, but didn’t pick up any movement.

“Well you’re doorwings must be malfunctioning,” said Kepler giving Buster a small shove.

“Stop being so mean,” said Ronin getting between his two friends. “Besides my wings didn’t pick anything up either.”

 _Haha…_ A high-pitched giggle broke the tense silence.

“That’s not funny Kep,” said Ronin. His wings picked up a faint change in the air current.

“What are you on about Roe?” asked Kepler. “I wasn’t laughing.”

_Heh, heh heh…_

“Seriously, it’s not funny,” said Ronin. “You’re scaring Buster.” The tiniest youngling’s digits were digging into the little seeker’s arm.

“I just told you I wasn’t laughing,” said Kepler.

“If it wasn’t you,” said Buster. “And it wasn’t us, then who was laughing?”

“Do you wanna play with me?”

All three younglings froze. The voice that spoke sounded weird, like someone speaking through a thick liquid. It echoed off the walls. And it definitely wasn’t one of them.

They turned around as a single unit and came face to face with a small dark grey Praxian. The new youngling would have looked completely normal, if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t have optics.

“What is going on here? Who dares to trespass in my domain?”

The three living younglings whipped around to find another Praxian, this one a towering adult, had materialized out of nowhere. He too, would have been completely normal looking, except he was missing his helm.

Three screams pierced the air. “Let’s get out of here,” yelled Kepler pushing Ronin and Buster out of his way to escape. Ronin and Buster quickly followed their much larger friend up out of the hole and back to the surface. They ran the whole way back to their caretakers.

“Do you think they’ll be back?” asked the younger of the two Praxians. With a gentle shift of the air, he returned to looking as he had in life, optics and all.

“It is very likely,” said the older Praxian, his helm once again firmly attached to his neck. He held out a servo to the youngling. “Come Barricade, we must make sure the crystal chamber will not be found.”

“Sure, thing Prowl,” said the ghost of Barricade. “I just hope we can keep these new mechs safe.”

Slowly their images faded until two glowing orbs were left in their place. The northern areas of Praxus wouldn’t remain quiet for long. Perhaps the rumors of ghosts would help to keep curious mechs from wandering too far into the ruins of the old temple and the tunnels that lay beneath.

Deep within the confines of Cybertron, tucked away in a pocket dimension, an ancient being stirred in its cage. It was restless. It was weak. It wanted to unleash its chaos on an unsuspecting world. But Primus was gaining back strength and able to protect His children from his malevolent brother.

It didn’t matter. Unicron was just as immortal as Primus. Time had very little meaning to the evil god and he could easily wait for the next opportunity.

_I can wait…forever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye to a fic is hard. This one I've been working on for a while. I always knew this story was going to end this way. Once again I wanted to thank everyone for reading and leaving comments/kudos.


End file.
